


King Protea

by fx_muldr



Series: Blood Flowers [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bella Swan, Bella Swan is a bitch and I like her so much, Bella and Edward share one (1) braincell, Family Bonding, Fix-It of Sorts, Frenemies to Friends, Gen, Good Parent Charlie Swan, LGBT characters, MTF Jacob Black, Multi, Nightmares, Platonic Relationships, Swearing, now known as Jade Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fx_muldr/pseuds/fx_muldr
Summary: Bella Swan; kickboxer, volleyball star and known kleptomaniac from Phoenix, Arizona, shoves herself right back in the closet when she arrives in dreary, cloud-covered Forks.Catching the interest of a resident 'freak' and unwanted attention from boys who can't take a hint, she finds herself starting off the school year by finding out her newly acquired frenemie is a vampire.Let's be honest, it's not the weirdest thing that could happen.
Relationships: Bella Swan & Charlie Swan, Edward Cullen & Bella Swan, Jacob Black & Bella Swan
Series: Blood Flowers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712908
Comments: 40
Kudos: 152





	1. I’m not even sure that’s legal.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm really doing this.

Surely this was a good way to die. In the place of someone else, a friend. A noble effort. That ought to count for something in the afterlife's good books. When life offers you to experience something far beyond your expectations, it's unreasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. 

I forced myself to stand, restraining the urge to bolt for the exit. The mirror shard impaled in my hand and my broken leg were the only reminders that if he didn't kill me, the blood loss would. 

We stared at each other, the vampire and I. 

The fucker looked pleased with himself. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down and the music of Sharleen Spiteri cranked up to max. The weather in Phoenix was a cruel seventy-five degrees for the month of January, the sky a repetitive, boring blue. I insisted on wearing a t-shirt I bought off the internet as a sort-of farewell gesture; sleeveless, cropped, the dead-eyed cursed stare of Kermit the Frog boring into passerby's souls; a personal favourite. 

"Bella," my mom said to me at the terminal, over the noise of the bustling passengers— the last of a thousand times. "You don't have to do this, you know. You've always hated Forks." 

She looks like me, with our hair too short and eyes a matching dark brown. I felt a familiar spark of panic start to bubble in my stomach. Could I leave my mom, as supportive, erratic, and harebrained as she was, to fend for herself? Of course, she had Phil now, so the bills would get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost. But still… 

"It's not about Forks, it's— Look, I want to go." I lied, "I'll be fine." I'd always been a bad liar, but since I'd been repeating the same phrase for about 3 weeks, it sounded almost convincing. 

She fixed me with a smile. It was small, but it held a world of trust. "Tell Charlie I said hi." she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want— I'll come right back as soon as you need me." I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise. She hugged me tightly for a minute, and I decided to scratch one last itch. 

When we pulled apart, tears on the verge of becoming waterfalls, she held my face in her hands, and I lifted up her wallet. 

She laughed when she saw it, and rolled her eyes. 

I'll swear by it, I'm not a thief. Though according to my mom, I do have a slight problem. I happened to be the right type for it; impulsive, blended in well, and overall innocent by outsider standards. It's not my fault people don't watch their stuff like they used to. 

"Don't get doing that around Forks," My mom urged as she took her possession back. "I shouldn't have to tell you why." 

"Oh yeah, because the 'chief' will put me in a fucking holding cell." I joked, and she gave me a look of warning, daring me to swear again. "Don't worry, i'll keep the lip to a minimum." 

The boarding announcement alerted us then, so I scooped up my backpack and gave my mom a mock salute. 

I got on the plane, and she was gone. 

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential place more than anywhere else in the country. I was born in this town, encased in its gloomy, omnipresent shade. Then six months later, my mom took me and left. 

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action made through battling convictions and my anxiety. 

I detested Forks. I loved Phoenix. It was simple. 

I'd been compelled (the more appropriate word being forced), to spend a month there every single summer until I was fourteen. Then I'd finally put my foot down, demanded that we go somewhere else instead; and so for the past three years, I spent my two weeks in blissful California with my dad, Charlie. 

In all honesty, Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. But it was still going to be awkward. Neither of us were exactly great communicators, and I never knew what to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mom, I hadn't made it secret that I disliked Forks. 

I managed to while away the time on my four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle by watching re-runs of the early Cartoon Network shows. After that, it was a small plane up to Port Angeles where I messed around with my fidget cube until some douchenozzle in a turtleneck told me to knock it off. I took his pen. 

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen— just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun, and Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. 

To the good people of Forks, he's better known as Police Chief Swan. His job title was my primary motivation behind buying a car. Despite the scarcity of my funds, I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. 

He gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane, struggling to put on my parka at the same time. "It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much, except for the hair." Charlie took his gloved hand and ruffled the top of my head, examining the copious amount of red dye I'd hastily smacked on my head a week prior. "It's a little shorter than last time too, kinda like how your mom used to have it. Speaking of, how is Renée?" 

"Mom's fine. "It's good to see you, too, Dad." I said dismissively, pushing my hair back into position. I wasn't going to call him Charlie to his face. 

He took the few bags that I brought with me towards the back of the car as I got in. Most of my Arizona clothes were obviously too thin for Washington. My mom and I had pooled in what we could to add more to my winter wardrobe, lest I become a human ice-cube two hours into my stay. 

As I watched Charlie in the rear-view mirror, rolling his shoulders after dropping the last bag in, I remembered Phil— mom's new baseball husband— from where I usually shove him to the back of my brain. I replayed how he carried all of my bags with ease; from my room, down the stairs, up the pathway and into his car. No pauses, no sweats, just all smiles. 

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," Charlie announced with a flash of a grin as he broke me out of my brief memory. I was suspicious of the way he said 'good car for you' as opposed to just 'good car.' 

"What kind?" I asked as we strapped ourselves in. 

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy." 

"Where'd you find it?" 

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push, the Indian Reservation on the coast?" 

"Nope." I replied, popping the 'p' as I fished out my cheap headphones from my coat pocket. 

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted, then continued when I didn't respond. "He's in a wheelchair now, so he can't drive anymore, so he offered to sell me his truck cheap." 

"What's the year?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask. 

"Well," he drawled, "Billy's done a lot of work on the engine— it's only a few years old, really." 

"When did he buy it?" I pressed, squinting my eyes, determined to get the truth. 

"'84, I think." 

"He buy it new?" 

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties— or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly. 

"Ch— Dad, c'mon, I don't really know anything about cars. If it broke down I wouldn't know how to fix it if anything went wrong, and I can't afford a mechanic…" 

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great." He assured me, "They don't build them like that anymore." 

'The Thing', I thought to myself… it had possibilities— as a nickname, at the very least. I waited until we were a few minutes on the road, with Weezer blasting in my ear before I spoke again. "How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on. 

Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression. "Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." 

Wow. Free. I cranked the music volume up a notch. "You didn't need to do that." 

"I don't mind...I want you to be happy here." He said, staring hard at the windscreen. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. 

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. Appreciate it." I replied dryly. No need to add that me being happy in Forks was an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth —or engine. 

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed. 

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was meaningless, dull and wet, and that was pretty much it for dad-daughter conversation. 

The scenery going past us was beautiful; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green, almost too green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, the branching canopies, the ground littered with ferns. Even the air filtered down with an emerald sheen as it passed through the leaves. 

Eventually, we made it to Charlie's. It was still the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage, those were the only kind of days they had— the early ones. 

Parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my "new" truck. 

It was a faded red colour, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I liked it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged— the kind you see at the scene of an accident; paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. 

A Rustic Charm. 

"Huh, thanks, Dad. It's actually not that bad." I said, with as much gratitude as I could spare. Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser. 

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

Lucky for me, it took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it'd belonged to me since before I came out kicking and screaming. 

The wooden floor, light blue walls and peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window— all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed, though the rocking chair still sat in the corner, and adding a desk as I grew. Surprisingly, it now held a decent secondhand computer, which plugged into one of the two old sockets in the wall. 

When I saw it I thanked my own ingenuity to hold my phone charger on my person, and shoved my phone straight onto its life support. But the best, and probably the only best thing about the room, was that my trusty PS2 was still shoved inside an old shoebox on top of the bedroom closet with a few games inside. The weekend had never felt so far away. 

One of the best things about Charlie is that he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was weirdly nice to be alone like this, not have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the cutting rain and let out a few heavy sighs. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag, too much effort. I would save that for bedtime when I could watch something like the 'Top 10 Saddest Cartoon Deaths' and just blame my tears on that instead of everything else. 

I googled Forks High School when I had the chance. It had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven (now fifty-eight) students. All of the kids here had grown up together— their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity perhaps, a source of small talk. I hoped that's all I would be. 

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I went into the bathroom to clean myself up. I ran a hand through my short, messy hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sleep-deprived and certainly jet-lagged. 

I looked like I was from Phoenix. I was sporty and tan; a volleyball player for the school team, and a good one at that. I liked cropped tops and shorts, I liked things that go with living in the valley of the sun. I had bigger muscles than your average seventeen-year-old girl and I happily revelled in the fact that most Arizona boys found that a turnoff. There'd been an incident when I was twelve; involving some shitty bullies and a hospital bill. Mom suggested I take some self-defence classes and, skipping ahead five years, I'm officially a blue-belt kickboxer. 

I just wasn't straight. 

I was hitting all the red lights of where not to go when you're as gay as the pope is catholic. I just had to find a niche or label that wasn't solely being 'The Lesbian' in a school with over three hundred people. 

I didn't relate well to people my age, never really had friends to latch onto. I wasn't fond of community groups, my anxiety made that very clear. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never on exactly the same page. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. 

Maybe it wouldn't matter. 

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying over shitty scenarios I'd made up in my head. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and let one of my playlists carry me to sleep. 

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning; a cage. I suddenly missed the colour blue. 

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school and I thanked him, privately knowing his hope was wasted. He left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family, and I sat alone at the old square oak table on one of three unmatching chairs, examining the small kitchen; with its dark panelled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the home. 

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year. 

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. I didn't exactly know what to think of it. Pity, perhaps? 16 years of regret? 

Dwelling it over started to make me feel uncomfortable, so I dropped it. I didn't want to be too early for school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket— the most insulated I could find— and headed out into the rain. 

The sloshing of my new waterproof boots on stone slabs was unnerving, making me miss the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. It was a shame that I couldn't pause to admire my truck as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around and made my head feel damp under my hood. 

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry, and I cranked up the heater in haste. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but it was fucking loud, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw or two. The antique radio worked at least, a plus I hadn't expected. 

It wasn't obvious that Forks High School was an actual school; only the sign, which declared its name made me stop. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. Where were the chain-link fences, I wondered nostalgically, the metal detectors? 

I parked in front of the first building, the one with the door reading 'Front Office'. I hesitantly decided I would be better off getting directions instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot on my first day. 

I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Inside, it was brightly lit and blissfully warm. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in cheap plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. 

The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly coloured flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large woman in rhinestone-covered glasses. 

"Can I help you?" she chipped, large eyes peering over at me. 

"Um, I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, curling my headphone wire suffocatingly tight around a finger in my coat pocket. I saw the immediate awareness light her eyes, a golden truth of seedy gossip. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, home at last. 

"Of course," she said and dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the one she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." 

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map with heavy presses and strokes, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. 

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around, following the line of traffic. Most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy, which was a relief. The nicest car here was a shiny and sleek car that I think was a BMW. Whatever it was, it did a good job of standing out. 

I stuffed everything in my badge smothered backpack, slung a strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I told to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck, merging into a sidewalk crowded with soaked teenagers. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door to my first class, holding my breath as I followed two clean raincoats through the door. 

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name— not an encouraging response— and I just managed out a small shrug in what felt like a slight apology. Thankfully he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to everyone. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. 

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was standard education reading but I was more than happy with the choices: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything; once, twice, some three times over. It was comforting. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she'd think that was cheating. 

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. 

"You're Swan, aren't you? The new girl." He held out his hand to shake. I took it reluctantly. "Hi. I’m Eric. The eyes and ears of this place. Anything you need. Tour guide, lunch date, shoulder to cry on..." 

"Bella." I told him eventually, taking my hand back and fighting the instinct to rub it on my jeans. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. 

"Good headline for your feature— I’m on the paper, and you’re news, baby, front page." He replied with a deliberate wink. 

"I’m not news, seriously, not at all-" 

"Whoa, chillax. Alright, no feature." 

I was getting annoyed. There was nowhere else to look without meeting curious eyes. "Would you mind just pointing me toward Mr. Varner’s class?" 

"Sure, I'm headed towards his building, I could show you the way…" He said, leaning slowly back into his seat. 

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks." I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid. 

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked, bumping his shoulder with mine as we trundled down the corridor. 

"Very." 

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?" 

"Three or four times a year." 

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered. 

"Sunny," I told him. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm. 

"I could tell." 

"How perceptive." Eric grinned at me then, and I gave an internal sigh. 

Eric walked me right to the door in the south building, though it was clearly visible from ages away. "Well, good luck," he said as I pulled on the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. I strained a vague smile at him and went inside. 

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, fidgeted, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. 

After two classes, I started to recognize several faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map. 

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my six foot self, but her wildly curly dark hair and shoe heels made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name and was too scared to ask, so I listened and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. We sat at the end of a full table with several other girls, who she introduced to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. 

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with a bunch of strangers, that I first saw them. 

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible. All five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught and held my attention. 

They didn't look anything alike, but despite the range in their skin tones, they held such familiarity. They also had dark shadows under equally dark eyes— purplish, bruiselike shadows. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on an old oil painting: the faces of angels. 

Of the three boys, one was big, bigger than me, muscled like a serious weight lifter, hair shaved like a military cut. Another was taller, leaner, with a haunted face and shaggy locks. The last was lanky, boyish, his bronze hair untidy, looking like he just got out of bed. 

The girls were totally and unfairly the opposite. The tall one was statuesque. Golden cornrows braided neat and professional, swayed gently to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, with small features. Hair a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. 

Strangely, it was hard to decide who was the most beautiful— the girls, or the boys. 

They were all looking away, away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray— unopened soda, unbitten apple— and walked away with a quick, graceful footing something like a ballerina. I watched, weirdly amazed, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanged. 

I leaned over to the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten. "Who are they?" 

As she looked up to see who I meant— though already knowing, probably, from my tone— one of them looked at her, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at the girl next to me for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest— it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response. 

She giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. "That's the Cullens." 

Another girl at our table, Jessica, I think, scooted towards us, swinging into gossip mode. "Doctor and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska two years ago." 

"They kinda keep to themselves. Everyone thinks they're running some super religious sex cult." Spanish girl said. 

"Because they’re all together. Like, together together." Jessica replied, her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. If I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. "The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big guy, Emmett...they’re a thing. I’m not even sure that’s legal." 

"Jess, they’re not actually related." 

"But they live together. And the little dark-haired girl, Alice, she’s really weird. She’s with Jasper, the guy who looks like he’s in pain. I mean, Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad slash matchmaker." 

"Maybe he’ll adopt me." Spanish girl said under her breath. 

"See! That's how they get you!" Jessica nearly shouted in a matter-of-fact tone. "C'mon Angela, at least try to act not desperate." 

I glanced sideways at the boy— Edward, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them. 

"They're…weirdly nice-looking for kids our age." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement. 

"Yes!" Spanish girl— Angela— agreed with another giggle. 

"Edward," Jessica stated, waving her plastic fork around nonchalantly, "he’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I give a shit." —she obviously did — "Anyway, don’t waste your time." 

I laughed into my sleeve. "Trust me. I wasn’t planning on it." I snuck another look at their table. Still the same scene, unmoved, like marble sculptures. "They all look a little old for foster children." I added after a few bites of food. 

"They are now." Said Angela. "Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that. The Hales and are Alice and Emmett, twins. The husband, Dr. Cullen, is really young, in his twenties or early thirties." 

"I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," Jessica added, as if that lessened their kindness. 

Throughout the conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the family sat. Strangely, I felt a string of relief. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard. As I examined them, the youngest, Edward, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. 

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again. After a few more minutes, the five of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful— even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

When I entered my science classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table like the ones I was used to. The space next to her was filled, in fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the centre aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual demeanour, sitting next to a single open seat. I watched him surreptitiously as I introduced myself to the teacher and passed her the slip of paper. 

Cullen's eyes were black— pitch black. 

Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no-nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, she had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him. 

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my jacket. It smelled like my marshmallow spray, so nothing weird there. I propped my elbow on the desk and a hand to my cheek, making a barrier between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. 

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down. I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the gap in my fingers at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his skin. 

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. 

I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she wasn't as resentful as I'd thought. It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me. Did he? 

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes hostile, furious. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair. If looks could kill. 

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose— not much taller than I— and he was out the door before anyone else could speak. Frozen in my seat, I stared blankly after him. The phrase of what the fuck? going round and round in my head. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me. 

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a soft male voice asked. I looked up to see a baby-faced boy, his ginger hair acutely curled, and grinning at me in a friendly way. 

"Bella," I corrected him, with a mirrored smile. 

"I'm Mike." He said with an innocent wave. "Do you need any help finding your next class?" 

"It's just gym, actually. I think I can find it." 

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small. 

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer— and supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. Mike had lived in California till he was ten, so he shared my pain for the lack of sun. It turned out he was in my English class also and that he liked most of the bands I was into. He was the nicest person I'd met today. But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that." 

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Cullen's usual behaviour. I decided to play dumb. "Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" 

"Yeah," he said. "He looked like he was in pain." 

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him. Maybe I just give off a shitty aura or something." 

"He's just a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you." I smiled at him (something I'd been doing a lot today), before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. I prayed he wasn't a douche. 

In P.E, I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Bored, but pleased to be on the sidelines, remembering how many injuries I had inflicted playing the sport back home. I had a brutal spike. 

The final bell rang at last, and I walked slowly to the office to return my slip. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong and colder. 

When I walked into the warm office, I almost did a 180° turn back into the freezing depths. Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me, unaware of my entrance. I pressed my back against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time— any other time. 

This couldn't be about me. No, I was just being paranoid. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room, entered the school. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that a stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. 

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes. 

For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, hair raising on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist. "Never mind, then," he said hastily. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and headed for the door. I watched him as he left, confusion etched into my brain. His hand clenched into a fist the moment he walked past me, before disappearing out the door. Eventually, I shuffled myself to the desk, brows furrowed, and handed her the signed slip. 

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally. 

"Fine," I lied. She didn't look convinced. 

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. 

I headed back to Charlie's house, blasting Simple Plan the whole way there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things: 
> 
> 1) No, I have never read these books before in my entire life. 
> 
> 2) My talent lies in screenwriting, which means less details and more to the point, so please don’t expect a masterpiece. 
> 
> 3) I don’t own anything except my own version of Bella Swan and anything else I add to make an infamous classic better than it ever deserves to be.


	2. You should see the doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April really went by like that, huh

The next day was better…and somehow worse.

It was good because Mike and I spent the whole of an English lesson debating whether it's accurate to write Count Dracula high off his ass on 1886 cocaine Coca-Cola (it absolutely is), and if Hamlet had an Oedipus complex (absolutely not). Chess Club Eric continuously glared at him— not us both— from three seats over whenever our discussions got a little heated.

It was great because people didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat freely with Mike, Eric, Angela and Jessica on our short break, overhearing the latter part of gossip about a monthly feud happening between the drama club and the theatre kids.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing and wailing around the house. It was terrible because Mr. Brand called me out in English, and I had to explain my cocaine vampire debate with Mike to the class until I wanted to crawl into a hole. It was miserable because in my first game of volleyball since I came to forks, I hit Angela in the head with the ball.

It was stressful because of _Edward Cullen_.

Part of me wanted to go back and confront him again, demand in the truth while I looked him in those black eyes. As I walked slowly along the corridor to the cafeteria, I couldn't imagine what I would do. Ignoring him seemed the best option, but the reliability on that would be gone once Biology rolled around. My other thought was to hide in the girl's restroom for the entire hour. It sounded reasonable until what dignity I had left decided that I wasn't _that_ much of a coward.

But when I walked into the cafeteria, I saw that Edward's four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table.

He wasn't with them.

Mike flagged me down then from across the room, and to avoid public humiliation I darted for his and Jessica's table. Trying to listen to their easy chatter seemed impossible. I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment when I would see him arrive to join his family. I hoped that he would simply ignore me instead of vice versa, and let my anxiety simmer down to its usual state.

It didn't happen. Cullen didn't show up and I grew more and more tense, like an invisible spider crawling up my back.

 _He_ ' _s probably ill_ , I told myself repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. Yes, it's ridiculous and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. I couldn't stop worrying. When I entered the Biology room forty minutes later, I had the desk to myself.

When the school day was finally done, and the embarrassed flush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball incident, I hurried outside to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students, eager to get into the warmth of their own homes, and for once, I agreed with them. I gunned my deafening engine to life, taking no notice of the heads that looked in my direction, and turned carefully into the line of cars that were waiting to exit the lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from anywhere else, I saw the two Cullens and the Hales getting into their car. The shiny BMW. Of course. Where there's expensive cars, there's expensive clothes. I hadn't noticed them before— too mesmerized by their faces, like an idiot. On my double-take, it was obvious that they were all dressed in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds.

🌈 🌈 🌈

The night I came to Forks I made the gruelling discovery that Charlie couldn't cook much besides eggs, bacon and cheap microwave food. So, I requested that I'd be assigned as the chef for the duration of my stay and he was more than willing to lend me his wallet. Then I found out that there was barely any food in the house, so I had him do a two-hour shopping trip with my list in hand.

As soon as I got home, I wrapped some black pepper potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven, covered two steaks in a quick homemade marinade sauce and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

Before starting my homework, I changed into my old cookie monster pyjamas, wrapped a towel around my hair and checked my text messages for the first time. There were six. Five from yesterday, one from today. All from mom.

 ** _mom_** **[3:45]:** Txt as soon as you get in. Tell me how ur flight was. xxx

 ** _mom_** **[3:56]:** Is it raining? I miss u already. xxx

 ** _mom_** **[4:08]:** Almost finished packing for Florida. Can't find my pink blouse. Do u know where I put it? xxx

 ** _mom_** **[4:14]:** Phil says hi xxx

I sighed and scrolled down to the next one that was sent hours later.

 ** _mom_** **[10:31]:** Sweetie u ok? Did Charlie nt pay the wifi bill agn? xxx

The last was from this morning.

 ** _mom_** **[07:15]:** Isabella, If I haven't heard from u by 5:30 I'm calling Charlie.

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

 ** _bella_** **[4:30]:** Mom calm down texting now, don't do anything rash.

I sent that and began again.

 ** _bella_** **[4:33]:** Everything is fine but ofc it's raining. was waiting for something to write about. School isn't bad, just a little samey. met some nice people who sit with me at lunch. The blouse is at the dry cleaners (you were supposed to pick it up on Fri)

 ** _bella_** **[4:36]:** Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. it's old, but really sturdy, which is good

 ** _bella_** **[4:37]:** you know, for me

 ** _bella_** **[4:39]:** I miss you, too. I'll speak to you soon. try to resist the urge to text me every five mins.

 ** _bella_** **[4:39]:** Relax, breathe. I love you. x

Afterwards, I decided to text Mike to carry on my coca-cola debate— this time for Sherlock Holmes, when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

"Bella?" He called out when he heard me on the stairs. _Who else?_

"Hey, Dad, welcome home." I called out while bounding down the stairs.

I watched him from the kitchen as he hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots. As far as I was aware, he'd never fired it on the job, but he kept it ready. From my time here as a child, he would teach me how to use a hunting rifle. There were no actual bullets in it of course, just in case I accidentally shot him or myself, and the ones that were ever loaded were made of rubber. From my time here and in Arizona, my life's hobbies could make up one weird biography.

Title: What's up, I'm Bella, I'm 17, and I never fuckin' learned how to stop stealing.

"What's for dinner?" Charlie asked warily, and for good reason. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I think I got most of my knowledge from watching Cutthroat Kitchen.

I told him what was cooking with a hint of hesitation, and he looked relieved. Then he stood in the doorway until we both felt awkward, and he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I carried on. I made our drinks while the steaks cooked; two black coffees (3 sugars for myself), and set the table. I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good, Bell."

I hummed in thanks, and we ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was a small hope that in some ways, we were well suited for living together.

"So, how did you like school? Made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

I scratched the back of my neck. "Well, I have a few classes with some girls who I sit with at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's likes to debate with me in English. Everybody seems pretty nice."

With one obvious outstanding exception.

"Mike? Oh, Mike Newton. Nice kid— nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

"You know a lot of the families around here?" I asked. He nodded into his coffee. I tried to sound as casual as I could when I went for the next question. "What about the Cullens?"

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man." He said with a small smile, then narrowed his eyes when he saw my nervous expression. "Why, are people talking about them again?"

"No...well, a little. But it's not—"

"People in this town," he muttered, the hint of anger peeking through. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he was getting louder. "We're lucky to have him— lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them.

"But they're all very mature— I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should— camping trips every other weekend…Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk." Charlie stopped abruptly, then coughed into his sleeve.

 _Wow_. That was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. Once I shook myself out of awe, I backpedalled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. Safety in numbers, I guess. They're all weirdly nice to...look at," I added, trying to put some effort into the conversation.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie muttered, and then played it off with a laugh immediately afterwards. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the- uh, the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around."

I smiled down at my food in pure confusion. Silence soon took hold again as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes by hand— no dishwasher. Then he went back to the TV and I heaved upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.

🌈 🌈 🌈

The rest of the week was equally uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students in my year. In Gym, the kids on the opposing team learned to brace themselves if I ever tried to take a shot.

Tall, Dark and Scary still didn't come back to school.

Every day, like a growing habit, I watched the red doors of the cafeteria until the Cullens entered without him. Then I could finally relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Half of it was Jessica telling Eric off for taunting her with a worm on a stick this morning (an image that I couldn't help laugh at), and the other centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park that Mike was putting together for next month. I was invited, and agreed to go, noting that staying indoors with Charlie every evening was not the healthiest of things.

I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about how much I may have caused it.

The first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, not used to spending time in the usually empty house, worked for most of the two days. I got ahead on my homework, texted my mom more bogusly cheerful messages, and managed to accumulate fifteen hours of playtime on The Simpsons: Hit & Run. I did drive to the library on Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; taking a mental note to visit Olympia or Seattle soon to find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck had...and shuddered.

A few people from my classes greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back in return. It was colder this morning, but luckily no rain. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose. I scrunched my face in disdain.

"Fuckin' awesome," Mike said, looking up to the clouds and spreading his arms wide. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. Snow. There went my good day.

He looked surprised at my distaste. "You don't like snow?"

"It's cold!"

"...That's kinda the point."

"Yeah, well. I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique and all that jazz. These just look like dandruff." Mike stepped forward, a dumbstruck smile on his face. "What, what is it?" I asked.

"Bella," He was holding back a laugh now. "have you never seen snow before?"

"Sure I have." I paused, then shrugged. "On TV."

He laughed, a loud, almost howling sound. I stared at him with my arms crossed until a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of Mike's head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us— in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush. My eyes went wide and I began to walk towards the nearest available doors.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "People start throwing wet stuff, I go inside." He just nodded, eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain— until it melted in your socks. I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield, but that was never necessary. Whenever other kids in my year saw me outside, there was a notable lack of snowballs thrown in my direction. Jessica thought it was hilarious.

Mike caught up to us as we walked through the doors, laughing, ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward _that_ table in the corner out of habit.

I froze.

There were five people.

Jessica pulled on my arm. "Hello? Bella? You good?" I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Mike looked to Jessica. "What's with her?"

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today."

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica replied.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor. I waited for them to get their food, and followed them, my eyes on my feet. I sipped my soda slowly, stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour. Not again. I shouldn't have to keep being the underdog.

I decided to permit myself one glance at the family table. If Edward was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I told myself I wasn't. I kept my head down and glanced up. None of them were looking this way. They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them with a grin. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else. Aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward carefully.

"What are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine. I snapped my head away, winced from the whiplash, and automatically pulled my beanie down a notch. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, or unsatisfied in some way.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica whispered in my ear, shaking my shoulder somewhat frantically.

I couldn't help asking. "He doesn't look angry, does he?"

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody…well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But he's still staring at you."

"Stop looking at him," I hissed. She snickered but did as I said.

Mike interrupted us then— planning an epic 'Battle of The Blizzard' in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Angela agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared. For the rest of the lunch hour, I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. My brain took in the evidence that Edward wasn't angry anymore and spun a roulette wheel, the ball falling on red. I was going to Biology.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual— despite my apparently intimidating presence, he still seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers— but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after gym.

"Come on, Arizona. Give it up for the rain." Mike said triumphantly when we entered into building four, placing his wet baseball cap on top of my head, the dampness nailing into my skull on impact.

"Terrific." I monotoned.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mrs. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, idly doodling characters from Castlevania on the pages of my book. I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed focused on the facial details of an Alucard portrait I was drawing.

"Hello," said a soft voice.

I couldn't help it, and slowly looked up with wary eyes. Cullen was speaking to me. Sure, he was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, dishevelled— his face friendly, open, a slight smile on his lips.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued, like I hadn't known for ages already. He spoke direct and precise as if every word was an effort. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You're Bella Swan."

I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just nodded once, silently.

He smiled. It should've been unnerving.

"I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

I grimaced. I knew it was something like that. "Why'd you call me Bella?" I asked stupidly.

He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I _like_ Bella," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron. I fixed my gaze on his, determined this time, this time, to at least _try_ to stand up for myself. "I just don't get why you're talking to me. You seemed pretty set on trying to move classes last week while trying to murder me with your eyes."

"Oh." His smile started to drop. "Sorry."

I looked away, less awkwardly than before now that I'd made some progress, even though it was just in the form of a half-assed apology. Thankfully, Mrs. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as she explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, she would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," she commanded. "Tick Tock."

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile, I raised an eyebrow.

"Or I could start, if you want." I replied, beginning to roll up the sleeves of my hoodie.

He looked at me carefully, and for a second I seriously thought I'd offended him. "Alright," he said, quietly. "Go ahead."

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly. My assessment was confident. "Prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. I jerked away quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand like a static shock from a trampoline.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back just as fast. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. "Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily. "Anaphase."

I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?" He smirked and pushed the microscope to me. I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed.

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him. He handed it to me; seeming like he was being careful not to touch my skin again. "Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it.

He took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it for him while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me. It was weird to notice, but he was writing with a fountain pen, antique by the look of it. Shiny too. I didn't want to spoil his page with my ballpoint chicken scratch.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table. I glanced up, and Edward was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Suddenly I identified a subtle difference in his face.

"Do you wear contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.

"No?" He said slowly, rightly puzzled.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled. "It's just- they looked..." _Bella, shut the fuck up_. "Nevermind."

He opened his mouth and seemed to churn out the first thing in his head. "It’s just the...fluorescents." He managed to say with a slight wince, and hurriedly looked away.

I vividly remembered the flat black colour of his eyes the last time he'd glared daggers at me. Today, they were amber, lined with what I thought was gold. I didn't understand how it could happen, unless he was lying for some reason about the contacts...or the 'fluorescents'. Or maybe Forks was just making me go absolutely insane. Probably the latter. Hopefully the latter.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.

Mrs. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. She looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers. "So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" She asked.

" _Bella_ identified three of the five." Edward corrected automatically, unblinking.

Mrs. Banner looked at me now; her expression skeptical. "Have you done this lab before?"

I shrugged. "Not with onion root." She asked about Whitefish blastula and I nodded.

"Well," she said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." She mumbled something else as she walked away. I began doodling on my book again when her back was fully to me, uncaring that the ink already on the page was staining my hand as I lazily drew a stick figure of Simon Belmont.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked out of the blue. I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to make small talk with me, like he'd heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate.

"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else.

"You don't like the cold."

"Nope. Or the wet. Or the grey. Or turtlenecks."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live."

I clicked my tongue. "You have no idea."

Edward paused our short back and forth conversation to ponder my reply. "Why did you come here, then?"

I furrowed my brow at that, staring hard at my doodled paper. No one had asked me about it before— not straight out like he did, demanding. "It's...complicated."

"I think I can keep up," he pressed.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without question. "My mom got remarried."

"That doesn't sound complex," he disagreed, suddenly sympathetic. "When did that happen?"

"Last September." I tried to keep my tone neutral, but even to me, I sounded sad.

"You don't like him."

"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough."

"Why didn't you stay with them?"

I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important. It didn't freak me out as much as it should've. "Phil travels a lot. He plays baseball for a living."

"Have I heard of him?" A hint of playfulness was in his tone.

"Probably not." I huffed, half-smiling. "He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."

"And your mom sent you here so that she could travel with him." An assumption again, not a question.

My chin raised a fraction, and I pressed my pen harder against the paper as I drew. "I sent myself."

His brows knitted together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and seemed unnecessarily frustrated by the fact.

I sighed, and wondered to myself why exactly I was explaining this to him. "She, uh, she stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy…so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with dear old dad."

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?"

"That doesn't seem fair."

I laughed without humour. "Life isn't fair."

"No," he said dryly. "No, I don't think it is."

"Good to know," I finished, capping the lid on my pen with a climactic 'click'.

His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're keeping something inside you that you won't let anyone see." I stilled, resisting the impulse to sock him in the face by keeping my hands firmly gripped on my thighs. "Am I wrong?" He pressed on and I kept ignoring him. I looked at the teacher, who was at the other end of the room.

"Didn't think so," he murmured smugly.

"Why the fuck should it matter to you if I'm hiding anything?" I snapped in a harsh whisper, finally irritated.

Edward took a very long time to answer, long enough that I was sure I'd somehow shut him up for good.

"That's a very good question," he said so quietly, so full of an emotion I couldn't place. I wondered if he was talking to himself then. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get. I scowled at the board.

"Am I annoying you?" he then asked, and had the nerve to sound amused about it. I slowly turned in my seat to look at him, jaw still taught. He'd moved to the edge of his seat now, and I wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden development.

"Yes. But I'm tired, very tired. Apparently, my face is easy to read."

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." He sounded like he meant it.

"Good for me then."

"Guess so." He smiled wide, flashing a set of perfect teeth. Mrs. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned in relief to listen. I was half in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this fully bizarre boy who may or may not despise me. I tried to appear attentive as Mrs. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were full of theories.

When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in bewilderment and now, unfortunately, intrigue.

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him in another life as a golden retriever. "That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had a Cullen for a partner."

"Like I'd have any trouble with it," I said, a little slighted by his assumption as we shoved on our coats. "I've done the lab before." I added in clarification.

"Eddie boy seemed friendly enough today," He didn't seem too pleased about it.

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and R.E didn't do much to hold my attention either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously kept passing the ball to me whenever I was up to spike, much to the dismay of the opposition. I didn't hold back as much as I usually did.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the shelter of my own vehicle. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine, unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and messed up my damp hair so the heater could dry it on the way home. When I looked around me to make sure the way was clear, I noticed the still, tall figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the BMW, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction.

I raised a middle finger to him, threw the truck into reverse...and almost backed into another car.

I stomped on the brake in time and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the BMW, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing.

_Asshole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Make the two characters of the (apparently) most romantic book of the 2000s immediately hate each other? 
> 
> Why, but of course!


	3. Peachy Keen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for the kudos and hits!

Something was different that morning when I opened my eyes. There was _sun_. Not enough to make me happy to see it of course, but enough for a balance of fear and instinct to kick in, because, in a town like this, a bit of sun could usually only mean one thing. 

I rushed to look outside, and then whined in childish defeat. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid— coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns and a fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the long stretch of road connecting my dad’s house to the makeshift ice-rink that was most likely Forks High School. I just wanted to go back to bed. 

Charlie had left for work before I forced myself downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with him was more like having an awkward roommate, and I found myself revelling in the aloneness instead of being lonely. 

As I shoveled a quick bowl of cereal and chugged some orange juice from the carton, I had a very, very, _very_ stupid thought.

I was eager to see Edward Cullen.

After our somewhat civil conversation turned slight intervention, I decided that his status from ‘will murder me and make sure they’ll never find the body’ had risen to ‘stalemates with education benefits’. My league and his league were like two sides of the same magnet. 

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the deadly slick driveway alive, only managing it by clinging to the side mirror to save myself. Clearly, a great start. 

It was a slow, crawling drive through Main Street. I distracted myself from my unwanted speculations about Edward Cullen by thinking about the unspoken tension between Mike and Eric. In complete honesty, I thought they should just bone each other and be done with it. 

When I finally arrived, something silver and shiny caught my eye, I got out and walked to the back of the truck— carefully holding the side for support— to examine my tires. 

When I saw what it was, I suddenly had the urge to laugh out of surprise. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me off guard. I was still smiling at the gesture the chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. What happened next didn’t play out in slow motion like the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to clearly absorb several things at once. But I only stopped to stare at one.

Edward Cullen stood four cars down, looking at me in abject horror. I was used to his gaze by now and I managed to tear myself away, but then I noticed everybody else. _Every single person_ was looking in the same direction. Some had fear in their eyes, others confusion. 

It was a bit too late when I saw what it was that captured so much attention. 

A dark blue van was skidding wildly, tires locked and squealing against the brakes across the ice of the parking lot. Skidding in one direction- towards _me_. I thought it was unfair at the time. I didn’t have the chance to say a big old ‘fuck you’ to Edward and whatever his grievance with me may have been. I didn't even have time to close my eyes. Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van crushing my bones to dust, something hit me, hard, not the vehicle, but a person. 

My head whiplashed against the icy blacktop, and I found myself lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked by. But the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, about to collide— 

Two long hands shot out protectively in front of me, so fast they blurred and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, one hand was fitted into a deep dent in the side of the van's body, then the other was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt— exactly where, a second ago, my legs would’ve been paste. 

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear a low, frantic voice in my ear. 

"Bella? Are you all right?" 

_Him_. 

Out of spite I refused to answer, favouring to try to sit up, only to find I couldn’t move, because Edward was currently holding me against the side of his body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," he warned, just as frantic as before. It was weird. I never heard him sound like that. "I think you hit your head pretty hard." 

At the comment, I became acutely aware of a throbbing ache, like a something was trying to dig into my skull. "Ow." 

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter. 

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head from the low ringing in my ears. "That wasn’t possible. You’re impossible. You were over there.” I nodded weakly to the spot where I was so sure I’d seen him. 

"I was standing right next to you." he said, his tone serious again. I mumbled something in confusion, then a thought came to me, and my eyes widened. 

_He blocked a fucking car._

My shaking hands gripped into his upper arms and I opened my mouth to speak, to accuse him, demand an explanation of how he stopped a vehicle going nearly 30 miles an hour, but unfortunately at that point, a crowd of people had started to form around us. Angela had tears streaming down her face, and a few were shouting at each other, shouting at us. 

"Don't move," someone instructed. "Get Tyler out of the van!" another shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward's cold hand pushed my shoulder down. 

"Don’t give yourself a concussion. Just stay put for now." 

"Fuck off," I complained, though there was no bite behind it. Edward seemed to notice, and he chuckled under his breath. “I don’t understand you at all. I _saw_ you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene. 

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." His voice turned hard now, the small of a smile slipping away. He looked at me then, gold eyes impossibly inhuman. 

"No." I set my jaw. I was right, and he was going to admit it. 

"Please, Bella." 

"Why?!" I hissed. 

"Trust me."

I could hear the sirens now. No doubt Charlie was gonna chew my ear off, making the incident more of a problem than it was. 

"Later.” My grip was tighter on him now. “Promise to explain everything later." 

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated. 

I replied back with the same childish tone. " _Fine._ " 

It took six EMTs and two teachers— Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward promptly refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening. 

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away. He yelled for me in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

"Hey, dad," I sighed. "I’m perfectly peachy, no need to worry.” Charlie turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion, so I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. 

_Later_ , Edward had said, and I hoped he would keep the promise, or so help me I might lose it once and for all, neck brace be dammed. 

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety. I was too dazed at that point to apply logical thinking for a solution— a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. I felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. And of course, Mr Perfect simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power.

I ground my teeth together and imagined him falling flat on his stupid face. 

They put me in the emergency room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse came after a minute, did the standard routine check: pressure cuff on my arm, thermometer under my tongue etc, etc. Though since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the dignity crushing neck brace anymore. When the nurse grabbed her stuff and walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed, basking in the bliss of fresh air on my skin. 

There was another flurry of hospital personnel soon after. Another stretcher was brought to the bed next to me, and I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandage wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me. 

"Tyler— you look like shit, are you okay?" As I spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek. 

He stuttered for a moment, then stared at his hands. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong— ow!" A nurse started dabbing at his face. 

"Don't worry about it; you missed me anyways."

"I did...” He said, confused by the fact, and I agreed with a hum. “You were there, and then you were gone…" 

"Yeah…Edward pulled me out of the way." 

"Cullen? I didn't see him… wow, it’s weird huh, even I can’t remember what happened. He okay?" 

I shrugged. "I think so. He's here...somewhere."

Tyler gave me a weak smile before they wheeled me away to the X-ray unit, and I was glad to know he didn’t harbour any resentment against me. _Like some people_. 

It turned out my hunch was right, not a concussion in sight. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to at least talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting. 

I did talk to Tyler for a while when they brought me back— his constant apologies aside— and found out that he wanted to apply for a basketball scholarship as soon as he could.

Of course, I faltered on what I wanted to do after high school when he asked, as I was known to do anytime the topic came up. A cartoonist was usually the first thing that sprung to mind; my amalgamations of doodles since I was twelve could probably fill an entire copy of War and Peace. The thought was soon followed by a more sarcastic option of turning to a life of crime, stealing for tough mafia bosses down in Brooklyn or wherever the cheesy mob movies are set. My mom would reply to this by cuffing me round the head, stating that: _’You’d be a terrible thief, you’d just give everything back afterwards’._

"Having fun?" 

My eyes latched onto the owner immediately. Edward, the smug ass, was standing at the foot of my bed. I rolled my eyes. Tyler seemed to notice him then. 

"Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry—" he began, but Edward lifted a hand to stop him. 

"No blood, no foul," He flashed his celebrity white teeth, then moved to sit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing me. "So, what's the verdict?" 

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I replied hesitantly. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us prisoners?" 

"Connections on the inside," he answered simply. 

Then a doctor walked around the corner. He was young, he was blonde…he was like the rest of the Cullen kids, same paleness in the face, tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. Charlie's earlier description of a certain Doctor appeared in my brain, and now I could see what all the fuss was about. 

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are we feeling?" 

"Peachy," I said, and hoped it was for the last time. 

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head and turned it on. "Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard." 

"Nah, I’m good." I replied with a smile, then threw a quick scowl toward Edward, who had the nerve to shrug back in response. 

"Well, your dad is in the waiting room— you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all." 

"What, no order to go back to school?" I asked. 

"Maybe you should take it easy today." 

I nodded at Edward. "Does _he_ get to go back?" 

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said smugly. 

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "I think most of your school friends seem to be in the waiting room." 

"Oh god," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. 

"Do you want to stay?" 

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly, too quickly— I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned. "I'm fine. Peachy keen." I assured him again. 

He chuckled, then signed my chart with a flourish. "Take some Tylenol for the pain. You were extremely lucky today." 

"Lucky that Edward happened to be standing _right next to me_ ," I amended with a hard glance at the subject of my words. 

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, now suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. My intuition flickered; was the doctor in on it? He turned his attention to Tyler, checking his cuts. 

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side. "Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

His jaw clenched. "Your dad is waiting for you," he said, starting to get irritated. Great. 

I glanced to Dr. Cullen and Tyler, bit my tongue, and decided to lower my voice. "Yeah, I don’t really give a shit. So please,” I held out a hand towards the door. “If you don’t mind.” 

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to jog to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me, eyes cold. "What do you want?" 

I scoffed. "What do you mean, what do I want? You owe me an explanation." 

"I saved your life— I don't owe you anything." 

I flinched back slightly, the resentment in his voice started to sound how it did when I found him in the reception area, trying his hardest to get away from me. I took an accusing step forward. "You promised me. You said—"

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." He wasn’t paying me half a mind now, and began to walk back into the previous room. Not if I had anything to say about it. I grabbed his arm as he came past, not enough to hurt him— though from what happened with the van, I doubt he would even feel it if I dug my nails in to keep him in place. He did stop, for that I was thankful, but he kept his eyes on the ajar door.

"I want to know the truth," I glared defiantly at him, temper simmering slow. "I want to know why I'm lying for you." 

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

I inhaled and tried to keep my voice even. "I _know_ that you weren't anywhere near me— Tyler didn't see you, either, so you can rule brain damage out of the equation. That van was going to crush us both, but it didn't. Your hands left dents in the side of it— you didn’t even _flinch_. The van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it back— you know you did all of this, and then you treat me like I’m insane. You _motherfucker_." The anger building inside me was almost enough to make tears flow. 

Edward stared at me incredulously, but his face was tense, defensive. Then he craned his head to stare down at me, eyes condescending, and smirked. 

"Do you always swear this much, or is it reserved just for me?" He seemed amused, and I swear my eye twitched. I wasn’t a violent person, but he made me question the fact. He took my silence as a momentary victory, and leaned down an inch. "Nobody will believe you, you know." 

"I know that asshole, I'm not going to tell anybody," I said, scrunching my mouth up in irritation. 

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?" 

"You saved my life." I insisted. "You blocked a van with your hands— I deserve some sort of explanation." 

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank. You." 

I waited, fuming and expectant. 

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" 

"Nope." 

"In that case…” He sighed, and pulled out of my grip, that I noticed was vice-like. He didn’t seem to care. “I hope you enjoy disappointment." 

I let him walk away then, back to his dad in the emergency room. But he was right, I wouldn’t let it go, I refused to. Something unbelievably weird just happened in my incredibly boring life, and I wasn’t gonna let it slip through the cracks like that. 

I called after him, my tone exasperated and tired. "Why did you even bother?" I asked. “You don’t even like me.” 

He paused, and for a brief moment, his face was different. A crack in the facade. "I don’t know. I guess I must be as insane as you are." Then he shut the door behind him. 

As soon as I knew he wasn’t coming back, I shoved my hand into my pocket, and pulled out a fountain pen. Edward's pen. The one I saw him writing with in science. It was old, judging by the wear on the sides and the dullness of the nib. I decided I’d give it him back when he finally told me the truth. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

The attention I received when I walked into the waiting room was anxiety-inducing. The circle of faces I sat with at lunch were over in one corner; Jessica and Angela, Mike and Eric. All heads snapped to me when I entered, but Charlie was out of his seat in a flash.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly, raising my hands to prove my body could still function. I was tired, and not in the mood for chitchat. 

Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets, not knowing where else to put them. "What did the doctor say?" 

"Dr. Cullen saw me, said I was good and I can go home." I saw my friends cautiously begin to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged. 

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends and muttered I quick ‘I’m okay’, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry. It was a huge relief— the first time I'd ever felt that way— to get into the cruiser. 

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was positive that Edward's defensive behaviour in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed. 

When we pulled into the driveway, Charlie told me to reach into the glove compartment, and as I did, he finally spoke. "Um…you'll need to call Renée." He looked away, guilty. I pulled my phone out. The case was a little scratched, but I didn’t care about that, I cared about the _seven_ missed calls from my mom filling my lock screen. 

I was appalled. "Did you...“ 

“I may have told your mother— “ 

“You told Mom!" I shrieked. 

"I couldn’t _not_ let her know!" He shouted back, matching my volume. 

I gave out an annoyed yell and slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out. 

Mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home— forgetting the fact that home was currently full of cardboard boxes, and soon to be sold to a decent proprietor— but her pleas fell on unwanted ears. I wasn’t ready to go back, especially now of all times. I was consumed by the mystery Tall, Dark and Scary presented. 

Charlie continued to watch me anxiously throughout the evening, and it was getting on my nerves. On the way to bed, I stopped to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. 

That was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everytime bella swears at edward, I mentally regain 50 HP


	4. Your mood swings are giving me whiplash.

Calling the experience a dream was a grotesque understatement. 

I was levitating slightly above the ground, only because something else _kept me there_. This thing, invisible as it was, had literally coiled tight around my organs and pierced through my heart at odd angles like a pincushion. I couldn't talk, couldn't scream, couldn't _breathe_. Using what strength I had, I continually kicked and flailed to rid myself of the thing wrapped between my ribs.

Then I saw a light, dim and flickering. It swung in midair, back and forth as if being carried by someone. It came closer, and closer until I could see the flame's container— an old oil lantern— and its owner. 

I couldn't see his face, just his midsection as he walked towards me... and then his back as he walked straight past, leaving me to my slow death, to be swallowed whole by the blackness. After terror, horror came next, igniting my instincts as I struggled again against the force keeping me in place, and tried to scream. 

He never turned around. 

I woke in the middle of the night, hyperventilating and mumbling, to find that Charlie was holding me. Initially, I thought it was the force again, trapping me, killing me, that I was back in the darkness again. Charlie just held me close as I and I kicked and yelled, only calming after a minute when I heard his voice whispering affirmatives into my hair. 

We didn't talk after what happened, and I was suddenly grateful for our similar personalities. When he was certain I was okay, he went downstairs, and soon returned with water inside of the mug he'd seen me use the most out of. Once it was placed on my bedside table, he patted my leg, and went back to his own room. 

After that moment, I started to appreciate Charlie a little more. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. To my anxiety's dismay, and my depression's delight, I found myself the centre of attention for the rest of that week. 

Tyler Crowley was thankfully the only one who didn't follow me around. We talked briefly in Government class a few times, mostly about how he was getting on with his Basketball scholarship, and thankfully after the first week, we were both contented to live and let live. 

No one seemed concerned about Edward though. I explained over and over how he'd pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. For obvious reasons, there was no mention of him actually stopping the damn thing, so I tried to be as convincing as I could. I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realised the probable cause— no one else was as aware of Edward and his freaky nature as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did.

Great, now I sounded like I was the stalker.

Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him like the plague. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore.

We had a routine. I'd come into Biology to find Mr Perfect already seated, looking straight ahead, angled as far away from me as possible. I'd sit down, say a little pleasant 'hello', and he would turn his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nod once, and then look the other way. Now and then, his fists would suddenly ball up— skin stretching over the bones of thin fingers— only then did I wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared. In class, I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. 

My seasonal depression kicked in with the arrival of a dreary March, and the nightmares continued.

Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my texts alerted my mom to my declining mental state, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just home-sickness. 

Mike, at least, seemed pleased by the social distancing between me and my lab partner. I could see he'd been worried, as a friend should be when the other nearly died an early death, but it was mostly because he thought that Edward's daring rescue might have impressed me. Needless to say, he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He grew more confident after that, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edward entirely.

How the hell I was gonna tell Mike that Iiked girls instead of boys was going to be a problem.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the trip to La Push would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed. Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon— she called me the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks. 

"Are you sure you don't mind…you weren't planning to ask him?" she persisted when I told her I _really_ didn't mind in the least. 

"No, Jess, I'm not going," I assured her. The thought of dancing with a boy who was into me in any capacity was a no go, and trying to ask Angela, the only other girl I was friends with, was an even bigger red flag. It was better if I didn't go at all. "You'll have fun with Mike," I encouraged. 

The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I swallowed my words, afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell.

My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was also unusually quiet. He was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. 

He didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, but mentally distant enough to think of me as an invention of his imagination. 

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance." 

"Dude, that's great," I said, my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You two'll have a lot of fun." 

"Well…" He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told her I had to think about it." 

_Oh no. No, no, no._

"And why would you do that?" I let disapproval clearly colour my tone. 

His face was bright red. My anxiety hit the roof as my stomach plummeted. 

_Nononononono._

He looked down again. "I was wondering if…well, if you might be planning to ask me." 

_Fuck._

I stilled, hating the flush that swept over my cheeks. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, that Edward's head tilted slightly.

"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said with a smile, mostly trying to hide the wavering voice caused by my internal screaming. 

"Did you already ask someone?" 

Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction? 

"No," I assured him, turning my attention to open my bag for my biology book. "I'm not going to the dance at all." 

"Why not?" Mike suddenly demanded.

I nearly slammed the book on the table. "I'm- I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway— and it was suddenly the perfect time to go. "Anyway, even if I was going, there's no set rules that you've got to go with someone, Mike," I added, a little more heated than necessary. He didn't look put off. 

"Can't you go some other weekend?" 

"Sorry, no," I replied, taking out a pen and writing the date on a fresh page. "You shouldn't make Jess wait any longer— it's rude."

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat.

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the annoyance and incoming guilt out of my head. Mrs. Banner began talking then, and I sighed, opening my eyes. I nearly had to do a double-take— Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes. I stared back, brows raised in surprise, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead, he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away this time, my pride wouldn't allow it. My hand tightened painfully around my pen.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher abruptly called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard. 

I looked down at my book, our little staring contest cut short.

"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mrs. Banner.

I propped up my hand again to shield my face. Nearly a month of subtle nods, and _that_ was all I could get? I shook myself out of my disappointed thoughts. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy. I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour. 

When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual. 

"Bella."

His voice was unfairly feather-light when he said my name. I turned as casually as I could. I might've already failed in my attempt to ignore him before, but hopefully, I could at least act like his fucking voice didn't have a hold on me. I finally turned to him, brows furrowed; his expression was unreadable.

"Yeah?" 

He didn't say anything. 

"Finally had enough of playing the silent treatment card?"

His lips twitched. "No, not really."

I nodded slowly, biting my cheek out of growing frustration. I decided to carry on packing my things. We both waited until the classroom was empty, Mrs. Banner having to leave to take today's equipment back to the storage room. 

"What do you want, Edward?" I asked, my eyes avert; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way. 

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. I didn't buy it. "I know I'm being rude, I know. But it's better this way, believe me." 

I zipped up my bag. "Don't know what you mean."

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

I scoffed. I'd heard that before. "Good job I never thought we were," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself the trouble instead of wallowing in your own regret."

"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?" 

I turned to him then, hand propped on my waist. He had the gall to actually look confused. "For not just letting that stupid van turn me into a human smoothie."

"You think I regret saving your life?" He almost sounded mad. 

"I know you do." I said. I turned my head sharply away from him, legs already carrying me away. A loud BASH happened behind me, and I turned in shock to see Edward's fist firmly on the table, eyes dead-set. 

"You don't know anything!" He retorted in a low tone.

"Because you won't tell me!" I countered. "How did you stop that van?" 

"Adrenaline rush. Very common. Google it."

 _How karmatic would it be if I stabbed him with his own pen?_

"Fuck you." 

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

Gym was brutal. Brutal as in even my own team were reluctant to pass me the ball. Fucking Cullen. Luckily I only spiked someone in the chest instead of the head, it was still bad, and I got sent off for a match, but I just couldn't concentrate. 

It was a relief, as it always was, to leave. I almost sprinted to the truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and, if I'd had the money for a proper pain job, I would have gotten it touched up.

I almost went ape-shit when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric, and calmed down. I carried on walking, a headache brewing at the front of my brain.

"What's up, Eric?" I asked as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice, so his next words took me by surprise. 

"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" His voice broke on the last word. 

_I'm not a Christian but lord strike me down now._

"I thought it was the girls' choice," I said, too pissed off to be diplomatic. 

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.

I sighed loudly. "Thank you for asking me, Eric, but already told everyone that I'm going to be out of town." 

"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time." 

"Sure," I agreed, tightlipped. He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle. 

Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. He stopped there— to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his shiny BMW, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror and cursed. A line was beginning to form.

Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used car, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge him. While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. I looked over; it was Tyler. I glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused. His car was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up. 

"I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm stuck behind the Cullens." I tried to be civil— obviously, the holdup wasn't my fault. 

"Oh, I know— I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." He grinned. 

I resisted the urge to headbutt the steering wheel.

"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued. 

I massaged my forehead again. "I'm not going to be in town, Tyler." I had to remember it wasn't his fault that every single boy I'd talked to had already used up my quota of patience for the day.

"Yeah, Mike said that," he admitted.

"Then why—" 

He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy." 

"Sorry, Tyler," I said, working to hide my irritation. "I _really_ am going out of town." 

"That's cool. We still have prom." He waved goodbye and before I could respond, he was walking back to his car. 

_Women who like straight men, you are braver than any U.S Marine._

I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding into the BMW. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tyler had said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal…one little bump wouldn't hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine. 

But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I drove home as quick, but as carefully as possible, putting up the volume on my phone to the max as I yelled out songs by The Killers till my throat hurt. 

🌈 🌈 🌈 

When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would let me listen to some music while I prepped. In the middle of a 2000's nostalgia playlist, my phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but the caller ID wasn't mom or Charlie, it was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation.

I celebrated with her briefly while I boringly sliced vegetables to the high-pitched tenor of her voice. 

She had to go after twenty minutes, said something about wanting to call Angela and Lauren to tell them. I suggested— with casual innocence— that maybe Angela could ask Eric. As for Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, I threw it in that she could ask Tyler; "I'd heard he was still available."

Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished I would go to the dance. Like everyone else, I gave her my Seattle excuse. 

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner— dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. But my brain was a traitor, constantly replaying and analyzing every word Edward had spoken today.

What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends? 

My stomach twisted as I realized what he might've meant. He probably saw how absorbed I was by him... shit, did he think I liked him? He certainly wasn't interested in me at all, the only positive thing out of the whole ordeal.

Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I _would_ leave him alone. I would get through my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some art school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven. 

Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him— the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a dad, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.

"Dad?" I asked when we were almost done. 

"Yeah, sweetie?" 

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday… if that's okay?" I'd feel bad if I didn't ask permission— I wouldn't've bothered had I felt otherwise— but Charlie was actually a good guy.

He asked me why and rightly so, I hadn't shown any intention of going out that far before. 

"Well, I wanted to get a few books— the library here is pretty limited— and maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for a car. (Not enough to change the rust-bucket aesthetic my truck had though). 

Charlie grimaced. "That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage."

"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia— and Tacoma if I have to." 

"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was suspicious or just worried about car trouble. 

I settled for patting his arm in reply. "I'll be fine."

"Seattle is a big city— you could get lost," he fretted. 

"Dad, I understand you're worried, but Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle— and I _did_ take those kickboxing classes." 

He stood as I collected our plates. "I know Bells, but, are you sure?"

I smiled as I walked past, hoping that keeping positive was the trick that would get him to drop the line of questioning. 

"That's all right, Dad, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day— girl stuff, _very_ boring." 

"Oh, okay." The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off. I downed the last of my coffee. "Will you be back in time for the dance?" Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were. 

I shook my head. "No, Dad. I wouldn't have anyone to go with either." He, of all people, should understand that. 

"Aw, shucks, sweetie. Though, I'm sure not all of those kids are bigoted airheads, y'know."

🌈 🌈 🌈 

The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the BMW. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car.

Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck. 

"If you keep appearing out of thin air, I'm gonna start throwing rocks at you," I stated before he could speak. Bella Swan is taking no shit today.

He held my key out as he spoke, voice quiet as usual. "It's not my fault if you're exceptionally unobservant." 

As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm. His eyes were light again today, a deep, honey colour.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, pocketing the key. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

He snickered. "That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. Every good guy deserves a chance or something or other." 

"Yeah, yeah. You're a real asshole, you know that?" I scowled at his stupid face, but he only seemed to become more amused.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist."

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't do the job?" 

Anger flashed in his eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humour gone.

"You really have no self-esteem, do you?"

My palms tingled— I took a step back. 

Then I punched him in the face.

If we're being technical, it was a jab.

Edward clearly wasn't expecting it, shock and surprise pushing him back a step or two. I took the moment as he righted himself to turn and walk away. 

"Wait," he called, a few paces behind me. I kept walking, sloshing angrily as the rain decided to come down in buckets, and I certainly didn't look to the BMW, didn't have to, I could feel _their_ eyes boring into my skull, trying to fry my brain alive. But then he was next to me, easily keeping pace.

"I'm sorry, I guess I deserved that. That's one good arm you've got." he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying what I said it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I complained.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled, seeming to have recovered his 'good' humour. 

"Your mood swings are giving me whiplash." 

"You're doing it again." 

"Fuck off. " I gritted out, then sighed. "Fine then. What is it?" 

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday— you know, the day of the spring dance—" 

I interrupted, wheeling toward him. "Are you looking for another hit?" I was pissed off and soaked to the bone. 

His eyes were infuriatingly amused. "Can I finish? I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."

Well, that was unexpected. 

"With you?" I asked, mouth open like a shocked fish. 

"Obviously."

"... I literally just punched you." 

"I know, I said it was a good one." He was smiling. I didn't want to understand why. "I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your Frankenstein of a vehicle can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much. And Frankenstein was the scientist, idiot." I started to walk again.

"Noted." He matched my pace again. "But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?"

Stupid, shiny BMW owner. "I don't see how that is any of your business." 

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business." 

"Hmm, I thought you didn't want to be my friend." 

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be." 

"Oh, thanks, that's cleared that right up." Heavy sarcasm. I realised I had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could scrutinise his face. Not a single red mark was visible. 

"It would be more— wise for you... not to be my friend," he explained. "But you're an interesting person. We don't get any of those around here." His eyes were intense as he uttered that last sentence. I wanted to punch him again. "Will you come with me to Seattle?"

I couldn't speak, too confused to do so, but this was a mystery I was going to solve. I nodded.

He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious. "You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class." He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.

I resisted the urge to grab my phone and type: _Fastest way to see a therapist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bella is king and Charlie deserves SO MUCH.


	5. Someone's pushy today.

I was late for English.

Unfortunately, I couldn't give the totally-believable excuse of _'Hey sir, sorry i'm late, just had to punch a guy in the face for calling out my declining mental health.'_ so I resigned to having Mr. Mason call me out in a disparaging tone as soon as I walked in.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me, having taken a spot a few rows to the front instead. I felt a pinch of guilt, but both he and Eric met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the _“fuckin' awesome”_ weather report for the weekend. Luckily the rain was supposed to take a minor break, so maybe our beach trip to La Push would be possible.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. I tried not to think about how I might've sealed my impending doom by taking Edward up on his offer to drive me to Seattle. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd finally knocked some sense into him.

Standing in the line to get food, Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans— Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together— completely unaware of my inattention as I just stared blankly at the defrosted vegetables under impossibly hot lights. 

Out of reflex, I looked to the Cullen table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? Did he tell his parents what I did? Either way, I was disappointed, but I didn't care anymore as to why. I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, and bought nothing but a cheap bottle of lemonade and a box of fries. 

"Edward's staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my dissociation with his name. "He's sitting alone today. That's weird."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Cullen staring at me with a smile from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with it for me to join him. I stared in confusion, and mouthed ' _what?_ '.

He just winked.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked, and thankfully she sounded concerned for me.

I lowered my head to talk— well, lie— to her, "He's been away a lot in Bio," I muttered. "the teacher said he could copy out of my book. I'd better go see what he wants." I could feel her staring after me as I walked away. When I reached his table, I automatically took the seat opposite.

"Taking the initiative, I see." he chirped, still smiling.

I flipped the lid containing my fries open and popped three in my mouth. "Th's is diff'r'nt," I managed out.

"Well…" He paused, tapping his nails on the table. The rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

The seconds ticked by. "You know I never have any idea what you mean when you say stuff," I eventually stated, pointing a fry up and down at him. 

"I know." He smiled again, "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you." 

I could feel the stares of said friends boring into my back. "They'll survive." 

"I may not give you back, though."

"Try and I'll hurl you like a bowling ball. What brought all this on?" 

"I got tired of trying to run. So I'm giving up." He leaned back casually, but his eyes were serious. 

"Giving up?" 

"Yes— giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." 

"...You've lost me again."

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you— that's one of the problems." 

"Don't worry— I don't understand any of it," I said wryly. 

"I'm counting on that." 

I snorted out of habit and popped another five fries in my mouth before speaking again. "So, in plain English, are we friends?"

"Friends…" he mused, dubious. 

"Frenemies works too." 

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, taking a hold of my lemonade, "But I've yet to see any evidence to support it...or any admittance to any of it."

He shrugged apologetically. 

"Are we at least going to try to be frien...emies?" I tried.

"As long as there's no more punches." I grinned but made no promises. I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

I looked up at his gold eyes, and pressed my finger to my lips, mockingly pretending to be deep in thought. "I'm trying to figure out, Edward Cullen, just exactly what you are." 

His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort. "Are you having any luck with that?" 

"Not really," I admitted with a casual shrug.

He chuckled. "What are your theories?" 

"Alright... how ‘bout radioactive spiders? Kryptonite?" 

"That's not very creative," he scoffed. 

"I'm sorry, that's all this girl's got," I said, holding my hands in mock surrender. 

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"Radioactivity?"

"None."

"Damn," I sighed, and started playing with the bottle cap.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either." 

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?" He nodded but struggled to compose his face. "I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.

"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again. 

"Because…?" 

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable. 

"Huh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "Interesting." His face was abruptly severe as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much. "So what, you're seventeen and dangerous?" I guessed with a short laugh, but Edward didn't seem to find it funny. He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend. "You're not bad," I stated, adamant that I was right.

I leaned back in my chair, studying him closely. "An asshole, for sure, but not bad. Out of the two of us, _I'm_ the one most kids are afraid of."

"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. He looked down, and stole my bottle lid from my side of the table and then began to spin it on its side between his fingers. I stared at him, wondering why I was apparently _supposed_ to be afraid. He meant what he was saying— that was obvious. I didn't believe him, of course, I wasn't _that_ insane. I just listened to him because... I guess you could call it fascination?

He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered. "Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you— he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again. 

"Boyfriend?" I replied incredulously, and look over myself to see, of course, Mike glaring at Edward. He tried to catch my attention but I turned back in embarrassment. "Yeah, no— that's, we're not a thing," I added frostily. 

"I know. But he wants to be."

I groaned. Of course Tall, Dark and Scary admits it out loud before I can. 

"I told you, most people are easy to read," he continued. 

"Except me, of course." I murmured. 

"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly. "I wonder why that is." 

I concentrated on the rising bubbles in my lemonade. "Years of practice." I took a swig, aiming to distract myself from the look he gave me. "Aren't you hungry?" I asked after a while of munching through the last of my fries in awkward silence. 

"No, I'm not hungry." His expression— it looked like he was enjoying some private joke.

The silence continued until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty. I jumped to my feet. "Shit, we're going to be late. If I get another late mark my attendance, my dad's gonna tell my mom and— "

"I'm not going to class today," he interrupted, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were still troubled. 

"Well, suit yourself." Like I just explained, I was still too new to afford a drop in grades. 

He turned his attention back to the lid I hadn't bothered to take back. "I'll see you later, then." 

I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door— with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved an inch.

🌈 🌈 🌈

As I half-ran to class, students more than happy to part for my towering figure, my thoughts were spinning faster than the bottle cap. At least the rain had stopped. 

Luckily Mrs. Banner came in the room just after I sat down, and called the class to order, juggling a few small cardboard boxes in her arms. She put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class. 

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," she said as she produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of her lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against her wrists reminded me of the crazy doctor trope in horror movies, hellbent of making amalgamations out of anything with flesh. 

"The first should be an indicator card," she went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator—" she held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." She held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. 

The needle was invisible from the distance, but my stomach flipped. 

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." She began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. 

"Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" She grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger.

 _Oh no._ Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead. _I'm on a beach, there's an ice-cream bar..._

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." She demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively. My stomach lurched. "And then apply it to the card," she held up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears. 

_In my hand is a Cinderella mocktail..._

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." She sounded proud of herself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission— I have slips at my desk."

She continued through the room with the water drops. I put my forehead against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth. 

_And I finally have a girlfriend—_

"Bella, are you all right?" Mrs. Banner's voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed. 

"I already know my blood type, Mrs. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head. 

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, miss," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching with Pretty Boy when I had the chance. 

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" she called to the now curious pupils. I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered. "Can you walk?" 

I nodded slowly. 

_Just let me get out of here_. _I'll crawl if I have to_.

Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. It was awkward, considering how many inches I had on him, but I couldn't help but lean heavily against him on the way out of the classroom.

He towed me slowly across campus, and when we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mrs. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged. He helped me sit on the edge of the walk. "And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little. 

"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

_No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice._

"What's wrong— is she hurt?" He sounded closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

"M'fine." I murmured from my place the ground.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she didn't even stick her finger."

"Bella." Edward's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I whined. "Go away... bitch."

He chuckled. "She's fine."

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take her," Edward said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and fifty.

He was walking before I even realised what he was doing. "Edward Cullen, you bottle-cap stealing bitch, put me down!" Hell, I sounded like I was tipsy. 

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us. 

Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning. 

"Put. Me back. On the sidewalk." The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held me away from his body, supporting all my weight with just his arms— it didn't seem to bother him. 

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together. "And not even your own blood," he continued, clearly enjoying himself. 

I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside. 

"Oh my," I heard a voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Edward explained. 

"No, I did not, m' just..." I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the bleach-blonde front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. 

The grandmotherly nurse inside the room looked up from her murder-mystery novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.

"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology." 

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

He muffled a snicker. I attempted to flip him off, but the nurse just pushed my arm back down.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," she told him.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." He said this with such assured authority that— even though she pursed her lips— the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"I usually am— but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching _is_ healthy." I laughed, then stopped to breathe evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha. Ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute. Seems that talking helped at least.

"Honestly— I've seen corpses with better colour. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"Mike's gonna be pissed."

"He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.

"You can say that again." I breathed out loudly. "Hey, Cullen?"

"Hmm?" 

"I hate men." 

He chuckled. "I can tell." 

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was mostly empty.

"I was in my car, listening to music." Such a normal response— such a 'me' thing. It surprised me. I was about to ask for the artist when I heard the door open. The nurse had a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added. 

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should. I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid and handed the compress back to the nurse. I said my thanks just as Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class.

Edward and I drew back against the wall to give them room. "Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

"Don't need to tell me twice." I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.

"Shut up. I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.

"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.

"Well, I can— that's what makes me sick. It smells like iron…and vinegar." I shuddered just thinking about it. He stared at me with an unfathomable expression. "What?"

"It's nothing." It's always nothing.

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edward. Oh, this boy hated Edward alright. He looked back at me, his eyes glum. "You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket, Mike." I warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just turn around and come right back."

"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in." 

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation. 

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door. 

"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I groaned. 

I hadn't noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he muttered. 

That wasn't a challenge; I was already pale from the wooziness, not to mention the tan I'd constantly had from Phoenix had gone away weeks ago, and my recent development had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells were the fucking worst. 

I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter. "Ms. Cope?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk. "Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" Wow, he was being nice for a change. 

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered, long eyelashes batting against her cheeks.

If Edward was a girl this would be much easier for me.

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice. "Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "Everyone else'll be pleased I'm not in Gym today."

"Why?" He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"You remember when I punched you?"

"A precious moment I'll treasure for the rest of my life."

"Imagine me doing that, but with a Volleyball going forty to fifty miles an hour." He shook his head with a light smile. "So, are you going? This Saturday, I mean?"

I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; near laughable when I pictured it. But just hoping that he might tag along gave me an extra twinge of enthusiasm for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?".

"Down to La Push— First Beach."

His smile lessened almost imperceptibly. He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

I clapped him on the back. "Congrats, you've just been invited by yours truly."

"Let's not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

"Mike-schmike."

🌈 🌈 🌈

We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Cullen asked, eyes narrowed. I looked at his hand where he had a fistful of my jacket.

I straightened up. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" His voice was indignant.

I swiped away his arm, and he easily let go of me. "One: The nursed said I was fine, and two: what about my truck?" 

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He took my arm instead, and towed me toward his car. I let him. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I didn't comply.

"Someone's pushy today." I teased, my tongue loosening from the dizzy aftermath. He ignored me. I was finally freed when we reached the BMW.

"It's open," was all he responded with. He got in the driver's side.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home." I stood by the car, it was raining now, and because I never put my hood up, my hair was gross and dewey.

Edward just lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Bella."

I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good; stamina over speed and all that.

"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, but it was in that weird friend-teasing way.

I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn't very successful— I looked like a dying rat and my boots squeaked. "This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.

He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment— my face in full deadpan mode— but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Is this Coldplay?" I asked, surprised.

Edward cringed. "... They're talented."

I laughed loudly, and at Edwards glare, I laughed harder. "I'm sorry," I admitted, seeing him go to turn it off. I wiped a tear from my eye. "I like em' too, y'know. If this is—" I paused, listening for the song. "Yeah! Viva La Vida. It's one of my favourites."

"It's...” He paused, as if his next words were a mix of embarrassment and secrecy. “It's one of my favourites, too." He stared out through the windshield then; and guessed, like usual, that that was all I was getting.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light grey leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, nostalgic melody, I rapped my fingers against the dash as the rain blurred everything outside the window into grey and green smudges. I could've sworn he was nodding to the beat. After a minute, I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What's your mother like?" he asked me suddenly as the final chorus began. I glanced over to see him studying me, curious eyes meeting my confused ones.

What's a better way to boost friendship levels than by talking about your parents?

"She... looks a lot like me, but she's shorter and more eccentric," I replied. "I have too much Charlie in me, personality-wise. She's more outgoing than I am— and braver. She's responsible, and she's a very, well, let’s just say, an unpredictable cook." I stopped abruptly with a swallow. Talking about her was making me feel too many sad things.

He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy now as it cascaded down the windscreen that I could barely see the house at all.

"How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine.

"I'm seventeen?" I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen." His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh. "What?" he asked, curious again.

"I always used to tell my mom; I look seventeen, my brain thinks I'm thirty-four, but my bones say I'm seventy-eight." I laughed again, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult I suppose." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I determined.

He made a face and changed the subject. "So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised he would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer. "My mom, she's very... young. I think Phil makes her _feel_ even younger— at any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. The attraction was a mystery to me.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"Why does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous. I wonder..." he mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine. I faltered on his choice of wording.

"I— yeah, she wouldn't care," I stuttered. "She already knows my choices, but she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," he teased.

I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Criminal record? Has a tattoo that looks eerily like a gang symbol?"

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be scary?" He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

"This again?" I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. "You could be, I guess, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

My brows furrowed. "No." It was the truth. The smile returned. "So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact. "I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

"I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "Jasper and Rosalie... are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, shit, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car. This was the longest time without pushing each other's buttons, and I liked the change.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.

I sighed. "I'm sure he's already heard. After all, there are no secrets in Forks."

There was an edge to his laughter. "Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A frenemie could ask that, right?

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier." I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

"Okay..."

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.

I rolled my eyes and swatted him on the arm before jumping out into the ice-cold rain. "No promises," I slammed the door behind me and patted the roof twice.

He was still smiling as he drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnnnnggg slow-burn frenemies to actual friends is happening.
> 
> fun fact, this fanfic now has a soundtrack! It's not completely finished just yet but what the hell.
> 
> If anyone knows how I can actually link it, that would be fucking fantastic.


	6. Girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the playlist for this fic! It should get updated as the chapters go on 👏👏
> 
> [bella swan: gay disaster](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4u2By7504MSRi4Gf9tPe02?si=F1_W3TF1SqqMtREo6ZFZkA)

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, and not how much I'd let Lady Macbeth step on me, I kept listening out for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain— after a momentary break— it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to going back to school, and when it arrived, it more than lived up to my non-expectations. There were the exaggerations that I'd actually fully collapsed in Biology; Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story, but thankfully Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement (per usual). She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So, what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked not so quietly in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Par for the course." I kept my expression blank. "He's a bit of an ass, really."

"You know," she pondered, disregarding my last statement completely, "I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."

"Weird." I agreed simply, turning back to put finishing touches on a bust drawing of Ezio Auditore. She seemed annoyed; flipping her dark curls impatiently— I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make good gossip for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew Cullen wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. Our discussion in his car and the brief connection through none other than fucking Coldplay had shown a better side of the guy I was eager to see again. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at 'The Table', where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. I briefly wondered if the fourth, the hulking Emmett was with Edward somewhere, before I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today— almost sixty. I prayed my first official outing in Forks wouldn't be completely miserable.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from the standoff-ish Lauren during lunch, which I didn't understand were about until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind Mike and herself, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

"…don't know why Bella"— nose upturned, sneering— "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."

I was amused by the malice she presented. I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me— or so I'd thought.

"She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally.

I smiled to myself and jogged up behind the pair, slapping Mike a little too hard on the back and towering over Lauren as I slotted between them. "So, what are we whispering about?"

🌈 🌈 🌈 

That night at dinner, Charlie and I seemed equally enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him and add more worry to the mix.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually, after finishing my drink.

"Yeah— why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Hunting? Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light, outlined in a faint orange glow, streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again.

Then I rushed for my shoes.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but never stopped to go in. In the parking lot, I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban.

Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered spiking the ball with ages ago. That one tried to give me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, but she mostly seemed scared and whispered something to Lauren who put her hair up with a tie and eyed me scornfully.

So, it was going to be one of _those_ days. At least Mike was happy to see me.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"Dude, I told you I was coming, like three times." I reminded him.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone."

"Nope," I lied lightly. Even though I actually had, there was probably a 5% chance Cullen would take the offer and show up. Either way, Mike looked satisfied.

"Will you ride in my car? It's that or the hippy minivan. You can have shotgun," he promised, smiling blissfully. I nodded.

It was painfully easy to make Mike happy. But it wasn't as simple to make Mike _and_ Jessica happy at the same time.

The numbers worked out in my favour, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between me and Mike at the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.

Sometimes to get to a window seat, you've gotta please the straights.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide dark grey Quillayute River snaking beneath it. We'd rolled the windows down— the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it— so I whiled the time away with my fidget cube and some Paramore tunes.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. Islands rose out of the steel harbour waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones of various shades: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue, dull gold.

The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone-white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

We filed our way down to the beach, a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny, as Mike lead the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me as I was sitting on one of the bone-coloured benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly about their Spring Dance outfits to make sure no-one wore the same colour, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a plain black and suddenly very stealable cigarette lighter.

Ever since the heist of taking Cullen's pen weeks ago, most of my hoard had consisted of dices, counters, and the pile of occasional nickels or dimes I'd find on the floor. It was the usual, but I needed to take something a little more worth my while. Like that lighter.

"Nope," I said, eyeing the damn thing as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then— watch the colours." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to quickly lick up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise. "The salt?"

"Uh," He faltered, "I was gonna tell you that. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, recovering with a smile, and placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me, pocketing the lighter in his left pocket.

Jess was on his other side, claiming his attention before he could speak.

I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky. I reached into my bag, found my trusty book and biro, and began to draw.

After a half-hour of chatter and sketches, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools.

On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They'd fascinated me since I was a child; one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I came to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and unaware of your own mortality. It reminded me of Edward's request— that I not fall into the ocean.

Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely: "—wearing the wrong shoes for it, _Michael_."

Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I jumped up to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. We all had to watch each step very carefully, avoiding roots below and smacking branches left and right. Eventually, we broke through the confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a rushing river flowed past us on its way to the sea.

Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I couldn't help myself, and joined in with the other fearless boys, leaping over the rocks, and perching precariously on slippy edges. I found a rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools, smoothed and rounded by years of abrasion, and squatted to get a better look, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.

I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now. Imagining what he would be saying if he were here with me. Mostly I'd just tell him to shove it.

Eventually, the boys got hungry, and we headed back along the uneven surfaces.

🌈 🌈 🌈

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer, we could see the long, braided black and brown hair of newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a girl around my age, sitting on the stones near the fire, glance up at me in interest.

I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the two girls by the fire was also named Jessica, and the other who noticed me was named Jade.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around— she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter, and left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images of a certain... _friend_ standing out more clearly than others.

During lunch the clouds started to advance across the sky, casting long shadows across the beach, and darkening the waves. As we finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes; some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike— with Jessica shadowing him— headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by blasting pop tunes from her phone, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the girl named Jade and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson. 

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jade slowly shuffled over to take her place by my side. 

She looked seventeen, maybe eighteen, her long dark brown hair braided back, with a checkered necktie to keep it in place. A neck that held a very _very_ pretty face. I was lucky to remember how to breathe. 

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

 _Forget how to breathe, forget it, forget it!_

"Just Bella," I corrected after swallowing.

"Okay, cool. I'm Jade Black." She held her hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking her hand. "You're Billy's kid. Sorry, I probably should remember you."

"Maybe, but I was... kinda going by Jacob at the time," she said sheepishly.

"Oh! You were the mud pie kid!" I snapped my fingers, suddenly recalling, which earned a laugh from Jade. "Shit, it's good to see you again." Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends at the time. Of course, we'd spoil our clothes enough via mud fights to end the fishing trips early.

"So, how do you like the truck?" she asked, her voice sweet. 

"I love it," I answered, turning to face her fully. "It runs great." 

"Yeah, but it's really slow," Jade huffed. "I was kinda relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had 'a perfectly good vehicle right there'."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"... No."

She grinned. "Good. Don't."

I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defence.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster."

"So, you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time... and free parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a Poly V-Belt for a Range Rover Sport?" she added jokingly.

"And you're what, seventeen?" I chuckled, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." 

I didn't know what that was, but at least Jade was pretty, and easy to talk with, and had a cute nose... did I mention she was pretty?

"You know Bella, Jade?" Lauren asked— interrupting the best conversation I'd had in ages— from across the fire. 

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," Jade laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck. 

"How nice." Not sounding like she thought it was nice at all. "Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was unconvincing. 

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy that'd come with Jade asked before I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He looked closer to about twenty than anyone else, his deep voice mostly contributing to the speculation.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject.

I stared at the guy, intrigued by the statement, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more— that they weren't allowed; they were banned?

Jade interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Now that's an understatement." I grimaced and she patted my arm understandingly. I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I expected some resistance, maybe an 'only if you want to', but I swear for a moment, before she jumped up, that she actually blushed.

_Wishful thinking,_ _you homosexual disaster_ _._

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. 

"You were right when you said I was seventeen. Just turned it, actually," she confessed, then ducked her head as she continued. "I would have thought you were older, though."

"I'm tall for a girl," I explained, but Jade didn't seem to mind that. "Do you come up to Forks much?" I was hoping for a yes.

"Not too much," she admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want— after I get my license."

"... Who was that guy Lauren was talking to?"

"Him? That's Sam— don't worry, he's nineteen,"

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." She looked away, out toward James Island, confirming what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

She glanced back at me, unfairly biting her lip. "... I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, okay," I said, feeling bad as I played my disappointment on a bit thick. Jade looked back to James Island with furrowed brows, thinking hard about something. Suddenly, she whirled back to me, a smirk on her lips. 

"Do you like scary stories, Bella?" she asked ominously— but to me, I just found it hot.

"Yeah. Fuckin cool." I enthused dumbly with a thumbs up.

Jade strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. She perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath her on the body of the tree. Her dark green eyes stared down at the rocks. I could see she was going to try to make this good.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from— the Quileutes, I mean?" she began. I shook my head. "There are lots of legends about us, some of them claiming to date back to hundreds of years, y'know before colonisers fucked everything up for us. Wolves are central to our identity,” she said, and I could see the light in her eyes as she spoke, "The Quileute origin story tells of a 'changer' called Kwati who turned a pair of wolves into humans _right here_ on First Beach."

Jade extended her arms as she talked. "Our warriors traditionally belonged to a secret society called the Wolf Society. They wore elaborate headdresses and had days-long initiations, and their most important cultural ceremonies have to do with being given power by wolves— which is awesome— It's against tribal law to kill them. Then... there are the stories about the cold ones." Her voice dropped excessively low.

"The cold ones?" I asked, unconsciously resting back on one of the roots. 

"Yeah, there are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them." She rolled her eyes. "He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land. He was a tribal elder, like my dad. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf— well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. Werewolves basically."

My jaw dropped. "Werewolves vs Vampires."

"Got it in one." She _winked_ at me. "You see," Jade continued, "the cold ones— 'vamps'— are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did— they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So, he made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them."

"If they weren't dangerous, then why…?" I trailed off, trying to understand.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." She deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into her tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

"So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Do they remind you too much of the clan?"

"No." She paused, exhaling from her nose before casually kicking back. "They're the same ones." 

I stilled; eyes fixed on the sea. Jade must have thought the expression on my face was too good, so she continued. 

"There are more of them now, a new female a new male, but the rest are the same." She was fighting a smile. "In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived."

_C A R L I S L E?_

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented, staring into the waves and trying to mask the faint notion that I might pass out.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone." 

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at her yet. "Don't worry, I won't say anything." 

"Oof, I guess I just violated the treaty."

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, finally looking at her with a goofy smile and making a sloppy cross motion across my chest.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie." She said guiltily, "He was pretty pissed at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

That statement didn't help my confusion.

"I won't, of course not."

"Do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" she asked in a playful tone.

I snorted then, breaking out of my trance to turn to her. "God no. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goosebumps, see?" I held up my arm as evidence.

The sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us. 

"Yo, Bella!" Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his head.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Jade asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's voice.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? Gross, no, definitely not," I shuddered. "I'm..." I emphasised the rest with my expression. "Girls."

Luckily, she got it, her mouth parting in a little 'o'. "Okay cool." She smiled sweetly. "So, when I get my license…" 

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I interrupted. 

Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see him nod to Jade, but she did nothing to reply. 

"Where have you been?" he asked me, though the answer was right in front of him.

"Jade was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was pretty good."

"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation. "We're packing up— it looks like it's going to rain soon." We all looked up at the glowering sky. Never trust the weatherman.

"Alright." I reluctantly got up. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Jade told me, and I could tell she was taunting Mike just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I promised.

Her grin stretched across her face. "That would be cool."

"Yeah, it would... um, thanks," I added earnestly.

It took me a few seconds before I pulled up my hood and I tramped with Mike back across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position.

Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I simply lay my head back on the seat, Mike's lighter already carefully taken from his possession and into mine, and tried not to think too many gay thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MTF Jacob (Jade) is now my new canon, and Meyer will have to pry her from my cold, dead, non-mormon hands.
> 
> More importantly, the extra part where Jade tells Bella about her tribe's history is from an actual interview with a real-life Quileute tribe member. I'll link the article below if anyone wants to read it!
> 
> [article](https://blog.nationalgeographic.org/2012/12/17/real-life-twilight-tribe-has-wolf-connection-mixed-feelings-about-movie/)


	7. Like My Chemical Romance reunion level excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied before, here's where things start to go full AU. Also apologies, I cannot write action scenes to save my life.

The night back from the trip to La Push was one of the best so far.

Charlie seemed excited when I came into the living room in my pyjamas to say goodnight, and upon seeing a giant grey blanket as well as two tubs of ice-cream on the table, did he tell me that by chance, he'd come across the start of a European Volleyball Championship game on one of the pricer channels and had the heart to record the entire thing for me. At my surprised smile, Charlie sat down and patted the seat next to him, and pressed play on the recording.

Charlie had never seen me play Volleyball, that was something that I kept for Phoenix; though through begrudging answers when I was fourteen and the framed photo of my team trophies he kept hanging above the tv, he knew I was better than _good_. It was fun to watch him try to grasp the rules, and it was even funnier having to correct him on a menagerie of terms that were clearly meant for five different sports.

After around two hours of munching on sweet, glorious chocolate ice-cream and laughing so hard at Charlie till my stomach hurt, I think I fell asleep.

Well, not think so much as immediately know. One moment I was comfy on Charlie's couch, smothered in a warm blanket, and then the next I was stranded in the middle of a forest, still in my fucking pyjamas.

I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. The small rocks and twigs underneath my bare feet made sharp indents on my soles, but luckily this time, I couldn't feel anything. I tried to follow the sound, but then something grasped my hand tight— Jade Black. She was there, face frightened, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

Then I saw it.

Ebony tendrils, oozing and squeamish, jutting out of the bark of the surrounding trees and wrapping themselves around them like snakes. I knew they had to be the same ones that dug into my body the first time, the same ones that tried to kill me.

My voice failed me, useless, no sound coming out except for increasingly rapid intakes of breath.

Jade yanked with all her strength against my resistance. "Run, Bella, you have to run!" the horror in her voice was haunting.

"Bella." I recognized Charlie's voice calling out of the inky heart of darkness. I made the mistake of turning to see him.

He leant, as casual as Charlie could be, across one of the warped trees. The tendrils overlapped his body, effectively glueing him to the surface, but there was no sense of fear coming off of him. He was there, flicking a lighter on and off, the one I'd stolen from Mike hours prior. "You're a little thief, Bella." Not-Charlie singsonged to me while wiggling the lighter like a taunt, ignoring Jade outright. "Why don't you come this way? Lose the pet, first."

Jade let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor, and twitching.

She was gone before my knees hit the ground.

Gone, but replaced. Replaced by a large red-brown wolf with black eyes and sharp hungry teeth. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore that was once an expanse of forest. The hair on the back of its shoulders bristled, low growls issuing from between the exposed fangs.

"Bella, come here!" Not-Charlie screamed out from behind me. I turned around to see two tendrils raised high above his head, before one shot out like lighting in my direction. I dodged out of the way of the strike, rolling onto my back and quickly crouching, looking around for the next attack. It came faster than I could think, aiming for my side as it rounded back, weaving through the trees. I jumped up and began to sprint towards the shore, but of course, _of_ _course_ I wasn't fast enough.

The gooey tentacle latched itself around my midsection and squeezed so hard I saw black spots cloud my vision. It was a perfect time for my vocal cords to kick back in.

I screamed, loud and violent as any sane person getting their ribcage crushed would.

_CRACK!_

Well, there went one rib.

Fortunately, that seemed to snap the Wolf out of its trance. The snarling animal bounded across the woodland floor, barked twice, then leapt. Its teeth tore into the alien flesh of the tendril; the momentum of the attack forced me to the ground, and I could only lie still while it carried on tearing the black thing apart.

Not-Charlie roared, the sound utterly inhuman... and then there came the second tendril. The wolf was still too preoccupied with the first to notice the deadly intent of the second. I struggled in vain against the pressure around my chest, the thing not budging even with my desperation. The dagger-like point of the second tendril gleamed through the sun's ray's above.

_CRACK!_

Another rib.

I reached for the wolf to grab its mass of thick fur, when a shadow appeared to the side of me. My head craned with the last remnants of my strength, to see none other than Tall, Dark and Scary gripping the arrowlike weapon dead in its tracks, straining against the force as it persisted to get to me.

"Great timing, as always." I blurted out through gasping breath.

Edward couldn't help but quirk a small smile, showing two longer, pointed canines on the top row, before becoming serious again. He looked down at me, pupils completely shrouded in black.

"Get to the shore."

The animal growled next to me, severing the first tendril. Black ink dripped down its mouth like thick congealed blood and turned it's attention to the bastard pretending to be my dad. I heaved off the black flesh from my chest and scrambled for the shore, trusting that Dream-Edward and the wolf would be fine on their own.

The breeze hit my face when I breached the clearing. The breeze called to me when my bare feet met damp sand. The breeze... sounded a lot like a ten-year-old girl.

_Find me._ The voice was desperate. _Beyond the cliff's edge._

I took a step closer to the sea. The sea began to vanish. It started off on the horizon, barely visible, but it was there and it was crumbling. Cracks in the rocks happened beside me, and the sand began to vibrate.

Behind me, I could hear the amalgamation of voices: The Wolf's growl, Edward's yells and Not-Charlie's nightmarish roar. The previous nightmares always ended with my demise, and I was sure this time would be no different.

I jogged back to the forest clearing. Both Edward and the animal were badly injured, blooming red dying his shirt, the wolf's fur.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could back the shore. I wasn't going to die to the darkness again. Maybe if I broke the cycle, the nightmare's would stop— finally stop.

And I jumped.

As I looked down below... there was nothing but darkness.

🌈 🌈 🌈

I screamed, wrenching upright from the couch downstairs. The gray blanket fell to the floor as I staggered away. I ended up in the kitchen, glancing around as my eyes focused on the glowing blue of the oven clock. It was five-thirty in the morning. I groaned, and slid down to sit on the floor, resting my head on a cupboard door. My pj's clung to my body like a second skin, damp sweat clinging everywhere. After drinking two whole glasses of ice-cold water and splashing some on my face, I slowly climbed the stairs, blanket and pillow (Charlie's doing) in hand.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would. I even took the time after to shave the sides of my head, signalling that time to re-dye my hair was nigh. The red started to go pale pink a few days ago and from the fresh shave, my natural brown shade stood out like a nun in a nightclub.

I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. After getting into my most comfy oversized hoodie and shorts, I looked out of my window. The cruiser was gone; another Fishing trip.

I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I couldn't put it off any longer.

I typed in one word: _Vampire._

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through— everything from books, movies and TV shows; to RPG's, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.

Then I found a promising site— _The Twilight Lexicon: Vampire Lore_. The web page was simple— white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page.

_'Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both_.' — **Rev. Montague Summers**

_'If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?'_ — **Rousseau**  
  
The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the _Danag_ , was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the _Danag_ worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a _Danag_ sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar to what Jade had told me.

The rest was pretty much standard to what we're all accustomed to. Only three entries really caught my attention: the _Romanian Varacolaci_ , a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, golden-eyed human, the _Slovak Nelapsi_ , a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the _Stregoni Benefici_.

The latter had only one brief sentence.

_**Stregoni Benefici:** An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires._

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jade's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth.

Speed, strength, beauty, eyes that shift colour; and then Jade's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold to the touch, and immortal.

But there was a problem, one main fact that debunked the search and wasted an hour of my time— vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Irritated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet, though my legs were fucking freezing. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

My instincts were against going anywhere near the damn forest, considering my nightmare, but I was too clouded in my own head to realise.

The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie teaching them to me from the cruiser window when I was younger. I followed the narrow path for as long as my irritation pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools leftover from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth.

A recently fallen tree rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my shorts before sitting down, leaning my hooded head back against the living tree.

Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet too, and the falling water droplets started increasing in frequency. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me.

Here in the trees, nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom. I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer.

First: I had to decide if it was possible that what Jade had said about the Cullens could be true.

I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye colour shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, frigid skin. And more— small things that registered slowly— how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. Mr Perfect skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip until he heard where we were going.

Vampires are supposed to be cool.

Edward Cullen... wasn't.

Well, he was something. The first instinct was to call him a bitch and be done with it. But fuck if I didn't want it to be real. What was I going to do if it _was_ true?

_If_ Edward Cullen was a vampire— my newly acquired frenemie Edward Cullen— then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone— and _mean it_ this time.

Like it would make a difference.

I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be?

I mean sure, dream-Edward had fangs, but that was a subconscious thing that dreams do. You talk about something and then a few days later it's in your imagination.

Now that I knew— if I knew— I could do nothing about the frightening fact. I shuddered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain. As I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face as I backtracked, I was surprised, at how deep my outing had taken me.

_Gays walk fast but Bella Swan running from her problems walks faster._

Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches, the sound of a car passing on the street; then I knew and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.

It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest. And so the day was quiet, productive— finishing the paper before eight: a feat only possible here due to the lack of nothing else to do other than homework and a few PVC rounds in Mortal Kombat.

Charlie came home with a large pike, and I made a mental note to keep my hand well away from its mouth as I prepped it for the guillotine that was my semi-sharp knife. I knew it wasn't alive, but the vampire business had nested its lore into my brain and refused to leave.

No nightmares haunted my soul that night. I was already exhausted from the most recent dream that I almost willed myself to stay awake. The plan went well until my head hit the pillow and I passed out cold.

I groggily shuffled to the window when morning came, another bright yellow sunny day. Hardly a cloud in the sky, and fleecy little white puffs floated down without a care. I opened the window— pleasantly surprised when the panel pulled up without any sticking after who knows how many years of unuse— and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was lukewarm with hardly no wind. My grin was electric.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately. "Nice day out," he commented.

"Abso-fucking-lutley it is!" I hollered with a grin.

He smiled back with a chuckle, the same reactions dad's do when their kid does something bad, and laughs as his spouse yells _'It's not funny!'_ at the top of their lungs while chasing the child around the house with the promise of a stern telling off.

When Charlie smiled, it was easier to picture the young romantic he'd been in those days before I'd known him: soft curly brown hair—an inherited trait — and charming as he was thoughtful. When he smiled I could see the man who had run away with Renée when she nineteen, two years older than I was now.

Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I watched him go with a wave, and with an energetic spring in my step, I folded my raincoat over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

🌈 🌈 🌈

The benches on the south side of the school cafeteria were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done— the product of a slow social life— but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I threw it into the trash.

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in his favourite striped football jersey, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.

"I never noticed before— you're a brunette, huh," he commented, intently looking at the shaved parts of my head, then to the roots on-top.

"Don't get used to it," I said dryly. "The moment I find a decent dye kit its bye-bye chocolate, hello red-vines."

He hummed in agreement, though there wasn't much effort behind it. "Great day, isn't it?"

_Small talk? Stab me._

"Suns out, and i'm a happy bunny." I managed.

"What'd'ya do yesterday?"

"Worked on my essay."

He scratched his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah— that's due Thursday, right?"

"No, I think it was Wednesday. I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "Fuuuuuckkkkk… What are you writing yours on?"

"The Fifty-Seven: Why Shakespeare was irrefutably, indubitably, not straight," I said casually. He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.

He was silent for a moment, trying to take it in, before saying, at a startlingly loud volume: "Shakespeare sucked dick?!"

My cheeks flushed red hot with embarrassment as eyes from neighbouring students gave us unwanted attention.

_Well, that could've gone better._

"Huh, now that's fucking weird." Mike continued, oblivious to what he'd just said. "Good for him though, y'know, if he was gay." Bi, but I gave him a pass. At least I now knew that he wasn't gonna exactly hate me if I just outright told him I liked girls.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

_GODDAMMIT MIKE._

"Well, we could go to dinner or something," His smile was painfully hopeful, "and I could work on the essay later."

"Mike…" I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the best idea." His face fell. "I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now to anyone else I will cheerfully beat you to death with a spoon," I threatened, "but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"

"Mike."

"Oh..." he exhaled— clearly dazed. I had to say something now, it was my only chance.

"Mike... I like gi- I like you as a friend. Only as a friend." _Coward._ "More importantly, Mike, Jessica's really excited to go to the spring dance with you, like My Chemical Romance reunion level excited. So I suggest that you breathe, think, and get your shit together because while she can be a bit overwhelming at times, she's my friend, too." I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag. "And no, before you say it. I do not fancy Eric instead." When I looked down at Mike again, his expression was somewhat fraught between confusion and disappointment. "Hey," I tapped his head to get his attention. "We're gonna be late for class. C'mon."

We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles after school to go dress shopping for the dance. She wanted me to come, too, immediately as she acknowledged my presence. 

Said she needed my 'unique expertise'.

I had to admit, it would be quite nice to get out of town with some other girls, even if one of them happened to be Lauren. I had no plans, like most days, so I gave her a thumbs up and a small 'Ok'.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, all through Spanish, and on our way to lunch. Angela kept nodding like a bobblehead, and I was far too lost in my wonder if her head would suddenly pop off with the spring still attached to her body to notice much of what Jessica said.

I was unfortunately and painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens— to compare them with the new suspicions that fucked with my mind. As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the room, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled— Jessica's enthusiasm for the dance had made us late— but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favour of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.

That made me feel better, at least.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. Edward's empty seat in Biology made me feel uneasy, all the Cullen's avoiding such a sunny day? Charlie would say it was another camping trip, but because of my findings, the uneasiness started to churn into borderline nausea.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free of Vampire lore and ye olde family stories before I went out tonight with Jessica and co. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica texted to cancel our plans. Mike had asked her out to dinner. Well, I was disappointed about not going out, but pleased that he finally seemed to be taking my advice— she rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

I spent at least three hours being bored out of my mind, mentally slapping myself every time my thought process went to me just setting stuff on fire with Mike's lighter.

After forcing pen to homework paper, overanalysing every text sent to mom, and re-reading the first chapter to Fellowship Of The Ring, did I hear the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up from my bed in surprise, realizing the sun was gone.

Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I walked downstairs, stifling a yawn.

"Heya, sweetheart" he said. "You want to rent a movie later?"

We watched Thor: Ragnarok after dinner, with Charlie telling me all about the original comics he used to buy as a kid. It felt good, to be doing things together like this. Finally felt normal.

"Dad," I said as the credits rolled, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber."

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"Nah, but I'm helping them find dresses— you know, giving them _'constructive criticism'_."

"Alright, girl's night. Shopping..." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth. "I like it! Go, buy some... stuff."

I smiled knowingly. "You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here."

I patted his arm. "And I don't know how you survived."


	8. Have you ever watched Final Destination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 700 hits??!! You guys are something else- I take everything I've ever said back, I love writing this.
> 
> Also: this chapter contains the first of the 'graphic violence' mentioned in the tags.

Jess drove like a woman on a mission, her car speeded down the main road so fast that the hour drive took only half of that. It had been a while since I'd had a proper girls' night out, and the rush was invigorating. Angela hogged the aux cord and played her 8-hour ' _hold on a sec i'm having an out of body experience brb_ ' playlist of emo pop-punk songs while Jessica ranted about the disgusting habits of the boys we hung out with.

Port Angeles turned out to be a beautiful little tourist trap; much more polished and quaint than Forks. Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay and instead drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised when I told them I'd been to a ton of dances in Phoenix.

"Then why bail on this dance?" Jess asked from behind the store's changing room curtain. She was torn between two— one a long, strapless basic black number with lace sleeves, the other a spaghetti strap knee-length electric blue. I encouraged her to go with the black, but it didn't matter; she looked good in both.

"Surely you've seen how most of the guys look at you when you come out wearing _those_ shorts in Gym." she added suggestively.

I huffed at that, wasn't like I had a choice. With my dad's salary and me having only two years left at high school, the cons outweighed the pros in the way of affording a brand new outfit just to run around for an hour twice a week. And so because of that, off coach sent me to the lost and found where I dug out a very baggy Forks High School gym t-shirt and considerably smaller shorts.

"The guys in Gym drool over any girl that moves," I said poignantly, scanning the racks and grimacing at the neon greens and yellows that seemed to frequent this cheaper side of the store.

"Yes, but you're like me and Angela," Jessica said sternly, throwing the curtain back to reveal herself in the gorgeous black dress. "You're actually hot."

I couldn't help it and blushed considerably. "Well, thanks, but—"

"I think this one makes my boobs look big. What do you think?" Jess said absentmindedly, turning back to the mirror to manoeuvre them. I squeaked and tried to cover it with a cough.

_Sympathy for the repressed, anyone?_

"Bella?" Jess said, staring at me from the mirror.

"Um, yeah." I couldn't look in her direction. "It looks great."

"You said that about the last five dresses."

Angela patted me on the back empathetically, "You're not very good at this, are you?"

Angela had chosen a pale pink dress that draped around her short frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with mom at home. Then again, my usual was a shirt, tie, jacket combo. I guess there was something to be said for specific tastes.

We headed over to shoes and accessories after Jess decided that I was right and bought the black dress. While both girls tried on dagger-sharp stilettos and dainty jewellery, I merely watched and critiqued with the occasional thumbs-up.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of rose-gold strappy heels— Jessica had drifted to the counter to pay for her jewellery, leaving us alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe. "I think I'll get them— though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead— they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes. "Um," I started, and she looked up curiously. "Is it normal for the Cullens... to be out of school a lot?"

Her nose scrunched up in thought. Cute. "Yeah, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time— even the doctor. They're the real outdoorsy type."

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewellery she'd bought to match her silver shoes.

🌈 🌈 🌈

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour— wanting to while the time away in a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun— they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding a bookstore, it stood out well enough. The windows were full of crystals, skull ornaments, with books about magick and deities. I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, grey hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter.

I spent about forty minutes there.

I meandered through the streets, after the bookstore, the branded plastic bag swinging from my hand. I hadn't bought much, just a 'Myths & Monsters' book, and a self-indulgent black leather bracelet covered in cliche witch charms. 

I wasn't paying as much attention as to what way I came back towards downtown. I was trying so hard not to think about the way Jess had looked at me when she said I was attractive, and I was _still_ trying to get my head around the pretty face of Jade Black that didn't seem to be going away anytime soon... and then I looked up to see someone's silver and expensive BMW parked along the street.

_Stupid, perfect, bastard vampire._

I growled out of frustration and stomped along in a southerly direction. _Yes_ , I was that stubborn.

I still had time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my near-ruined mood in hand before I met back up with them but, I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I had gotten myself lost. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of three men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and stupidly punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no one else was around. I glanced over my shoulder automatically. The other two of them had paused. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Fuck off," I yelled back, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several sombre-coloured warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset.

The eastern sky was still clear, but greying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty. As the sound of the van dimmed, I realized with a shock that a set of footsteps were walking quietly behind me.

I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. I rolled my shoulders, preparing myself as casually as I could, just in case push came to shove or shove came to punch.

I listened intently to the quiet footsteps, it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. I unzipped my jacket. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me now. I could hear the footsteps, staying as far back as they'd been before. I hooked the bag onto my arm to massage my wrists.

I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away.

Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the two thin men from the loud group I passed before, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk.

I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time before darting to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps of the two men began to clack against the footpath.

"Hey, asshole," I said, turning around to see the heavyset man, as I dropped my bag to the ground. "You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up."

"Don't be like that, sugar," the man called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.

I smiled, and started laughing with them too, my own voice mockingly louder than theirs. The man in front of me seemed puzzled for a moment, before I stopped abrutly.

My clenched fist connected with his nose, sending him sprawling back and onto the floor in shock, blood immediately gushing from his nose as he messily spluttered, coughed and gasped.

My knuckled ached as I stood over him.

"Aww, don't be like that, _sugar_."

The two others started yelling then, immediately running for me. I knew I probably wouldn't have a chance against the both of them, and there was a solid chance the big one would be getting up soon after. I walked forward and squared into a defensive stance, ready to hit the closest guy in the kidneys.

But then, of course, _he_ happened.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the screeching tires spooking the two drunken men to jump back toward the sidewalk.

As the car came bounding down the road, a hand grabbed the back of jacket, pulling me out of the way. The hand switched to my hair before I could react, forcing me up to a mass of brickwork, before promptly smashing my head against it. The pain was enormous. Red dripped from my temple as the giant man's ragged breaths hit the back of my neck.

I kicked off the wall, sending an elbow to his stomach as we staggered back. His grip loosened as he tried to balance himself, so I curled my knee up high only to come crashing down with a powerful kick to one of his lower legs. I heard a pleasing CRACK as the man howled. His noise of agony mixed with the sound of my 'rescue car' fishtailing and skidding to a halt in the background. The passenger door opened.

"Get in, now!"

I scrambled for the door, managing to scoop up my bag on the way. I jumped into the seat, and the car was moving before I could slam the door shut.

🌈 🌈 🌈

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could barely see Cullen's face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving out of the way as we straightened out and sped toward the harbour.

"Tissues. Glove box. Now." Cullen's voice was strained, pleading; and I realized his expression was murderously angry, clutching the wheel with an inhuman grip, the material denting under his fingers. I snapped my seat belt on and fumbled for the tissues. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

"You know," I said, starting to gingerly dab at pain blooming above my left eye with the tissue, squinting to observe the blood under the blur of the street lights. "I should get my dad to give you a medal. For good samaritan work, or something along those lines."

I kept dumbly padding at the sore spot, groaning out a litany of ow's, hisses and winces, while Cullen's eyes stared straight ahead until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on his face.

"Yeah," I said softly. "My head'll be fine in a few days. Charlie's gonna have a field day though, but he knows it's nothing I can't handle. I've had worse done to me before. At least one of them won't be walking right for a while," I added with a smile, trying to lighten the situation as best I could. "Hope his leg is fucking broken. God, you should've seen the amount of blood that came out of—"

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply. "Just rattle about something you like, a weird fact— just something that's not... blood." he clarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "The... inventor of the Pringles can is now buried in one." It was about as weird as I could get; youtube has a way of recommending you weird videos at 3 AM.

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "Why?"

"Because he was so proud of his invention that he wanted to take it to the grave— literally. When he died, his children stopped at a Walgreens on the way to the funeral home and then proceeded to argue about which flavour to buy. In the end, the eldest kid decided that they should just go with the original plain."

"And you remembered that?" He sounded a bit more composed now, so I took a chance and eased up a little against my seat.

"My memory is both a gift and a curse."

"You're impossible" Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Feel better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. "Why are you angry? Yeah, okay, I got roughed up a little, but I'm alive." My confused grin turned into a playful one. "Aw, were you worried about me?"

He stared out the window, eyes narrowed into slits. He murmured something I couldn't quite catch.

"What was that?" I teased.

Again, another muffled sound.

I smiled wide. "Was that a 'yuh' sound? Are you trying to say—"

"Yes!" he groaned, easily annoyed, "Yes, I was worried about you, now will you drop it?"

I chuckled as I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past eight-thirty. "Alright, Mr. Stalker, you've earned my silence. Could you at least drive me back to my girl-group?" I asked. "I was supposed to meet them, like, ages ago at an Italian place on a corner."

He didn't reply— because he's Edward— but eventually he obliged and started the engine.

We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to dinner. You've clearly earned it." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

I checked my wound in the side-mirror, luckily the bleeding had stopped, but oh boy it was bruising quickly.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces.

"Where were you!?" Jessica demanded. "We texted you non-stop."

Angela hurried behind her, being careful not to fall due to her dainty heels. "We waited, but we were starving—"

They hesitated and nearly tripped up a few feet from us when they finally saw Tall, Dark and Scary and the colourful bruise forming on my brow underneath the strained orange lights.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Jessica's voice was thankfully held more concern than suspicion. "Your head... it's..."

"You should've seen the other guy," I admitted proudly, earning a nervous laugh from Angela that died down quick when she realised I wasn't joking. "I ran into him on the way back." I gestured casually toward Edward, someone who was most certainly not _just_ a 'him'. To my surprise, Edward gave them a quick— almost nervous?— wave to them before shoving his hand deep into his jean pocket.

"I hope the food was good," I continued. "I wasn't really feeling like eating anyway so—"

" _I_ think you should eat something." I rolled my eyes and glanced to Edward, our eyes level. His voice was low, but full of the same tone that your grandma gives you when she learns that you haven't had breakfast before coming to visit. He looked to the girls then, speaking slightly louder. "I'm gonna drive Bella home tonight. That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, eyes flicking back to me to check if I was okay. I gave her a thumbs up with both hands. _No point arguing with a Cullen,_ I tried to convey with my eyes.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella… Edward." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car a little ways away. As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression was doubtful as he walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. I walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

🌈 🌈 🌈

The restaurant wasn't crowded— a reflection of the off-season in Port Angeles. The hostess had a look in her eyes as she assessed Edward, welcoming him a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much she didn't stare at the fresh gash on my forehead.

"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept between us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the centre of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the hostess as he smoothly handed her a tip.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths— all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um"— she shook her head, blinking— "your server will be right out." She walked away unsteadily.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized as I sat down. "It's hardly fair."

Cullen seemed to float into his chair, crossing his legs before leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that— poor girl's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now." He seemed confused. "Don't act all innocent with me, Edward Cullen. You know the effect you have on people."

He tilted his head to one side, eyes curious. "I dazzle people?"

"Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

"Do I dazzle you?"

"You fuckin' wish."

Our server arrived soon after, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short hair behind one ear and smiled with warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.

"I'll have a Coke." He looked at me. "Two Cokes."

"Dr Pepper." I corrected with a tight-lipped smile. Of course, the server didn't hear me, and I watched with annoyance as he re-spoke our order.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile.

"What?" I asked when she left.

His eyes flickered to my forehead. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, _mom._ " I replied.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold…?"

"I've gotten into fights before. Those things go away with experience."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar in you." Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.

"Bella?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.

I kept my unimpressed eyes on him. "Tre Carni Calzone, please."

"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," he said.

_Oh, come on!_

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.

"Drink up." he ordered.

"You first." I countered.

"Not thirsty."

"The server seemed to be for you, now why's that?"

"You're in a mood again."

"You're being an asshole again." I picked up my glass. "And we were doing so well." His expression turned sombre then, eyebrows frowning as he thought to himself. I ended up downing my drink in one go. "Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are light," I commented, tapping my nails on the glass.

He snapped out of the trance, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabby when your eyes are black— I've got a theory about that."

Edward forward back, fingers bunching up the tablecloth. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." I ripped off a small chunk of a breadstick, placed it on the back of my hand and trick-shotted it into my mouth.

"I hope you're more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic books?"

"Fantasy is the same as it was twenty years ago," I confessed. "Nothing's really original anymore."

"Your theory." he prompted, but then the waitress strode around the partition with my food and we both straightened up quickly. She set the pretty delicious-looking dish in front of me and turned quickly to Edward.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.

"No, thank you, I've still got my drink."

The server nodded curtly with an 'Ok', taking my glass as she left.

"You were saying?" Edward asked, pushing his own glass in front of me, which I didn't object to taking a sip out of.

"I'll tell you about it in the car, but only if—"

"Let me guess, you have conditions?" He propped his head in his hand.

"Just a few questions."

"Of course. Well, go ahead,"

"Why are you in Port Angeles?"

He looked down, folding his bony hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face. "Next."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected, sounding more like a whine than anything else.

"Next," he repeated.

I unrolled my silverware, picked up my knife and fork, and made an incision into the calzone. "Picky bastard" I murmured before putting a big bite of delicious cheesy pizza into my mouth.

"Ok'y, th'n." I glared at him, chewing slowly. "Let's say, hyp'thetic'lly o' course, that… som'one… could know what pe'ple are thinkin', read minds, you know—" I swallowed. "With a few exceptions."

"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception, then. How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in trouble?"

"Hypothetically?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…"

"Let's call him 'John,'" I suggested.

"John, then. If John had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be dead on." He shook his head, "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate stats for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded him frostily.

He laughed at me, his eyes warm. "Yeah, we were," he agreed. He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I said, lightly kicking his leg under the table. "Frenemies, and all that."

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost sad. "I was wrong— you're much more than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents— that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for _trouble_. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will inevitably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

His face turned cold, expressionless. "Absolutely."

"Then... thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

His face softened. "My family likes to live by the 'three strikes and you're out' rule so we better not make this a habit. I don't know how much a medal for saving your life would be worth to me if you ended up dead."

"Hey," I pointed my fork at him, "I'm one tough cookie. Triple chocolate, to be specific."

Silence followed after, and it wasn't until I had a few bites left that Edward spoke up. "I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and you really make things difficult. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes."

I wondered which should've bothered me more: the fact he just casually admitted to stalking me, or that he said _'I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before'._

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself. "Have you ever watched Final Destination?"

"That wasn't the first time," he said, ignoring me completely. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

I blinked. "Well, that's not ominous at all."

"Be serious for once, Bella. Do you remember?"

"Yes." I replied calmly. It was an effort to be annoyed now, so I let him have his way.

"And yet here you sit."

"So? I'm sitting here… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today…?" I prompted.

He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me. "Keeping eating, then I'll talk," he bargained.

I quickly scooped up another bite and popped it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be— keeping track of you." He carried on, "Usually, I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before. It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum— buzzing voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear. Most of the time I tune it all out." He looked at me anxiously.

"Huh." I made myself swallow, then stabbed another pizza bite and tossed it in. "So, Professor X," I started, "What am I thinking about— Go."

Cullen just looked at me dumbly. Oh, what I would've have given for someone to photograph it. "I have no idea." He said slowly. "I can read every mind in here, except yours." He turned then, pointing people out with an accusatory finger.

"Job promotion, new pet, paying off loans, horny, also horny, boyfriend stood her up..." Then he pointed to me."Nope. Nothing. It's quite frustrating."

I snorted. "Why, what's wrong with me? Did a witch curse me as a baby, am I part of a cursed bloodline, or am I the chosen one sought to bring about the downfall of humanity?" I said dramatically.

"I tell you I read minds and you think there's something wrong with you?" He smiled, and it was genuine. His eyes caught the clock behind us, and for a moment he almost looked sad. "Are you ready to go home?"

I looked down at the few remnants left on the plate before I pushed it away from me. I was just glad I didn't have to pay for it. "Yeah, I'm good to go."

Edward cleared the check with the waitress, his voice was quiet, but at least the edge was gone, and I hoped for the hour-long drive back he wouldn't bring up the guys from the alleyway.

He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I did a mock curtsy and stepped in. I watched him walk around the front of the car, and then had the sudden realisation that I, Bella Swan, had gotten used to him. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high, I sighed dramatically in relief, earning another amused smile. Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," he said significantly, gold eyes shining under the street lights, "it's your turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little change in the update schedule for you guys, I'm probably going to make it so I upload a chapter once a month instead of twice.
> 
> I've had a lot happening this month; moving room, planning a d&d campaign for my IRL friends, preparing for another college year etc etc so I haven't had time to pre-prepare any chapters for you all (this was the last one).
> 
> Hope you understand!
> 
> TL;DR - chapters are coming first of every month instead of twice.


	9. You're all i've got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short! I had to cut a lot of heterosexuality out to make way for my version, so sorry again if it seems a little lackluster.

"So, my mind doesn't work." I told Edward flatly as he drove me home, going what the speed monitor said was nearly one-hundred miles per hour down the road. "I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Bella." Edward told me for the fifth time, rolling his eyes but looking more at ease than I'd ever seen him before. He'd even put his Coldplay CD back into the stereo and was uncaringly tapping away to the beat of _Paradise_ on the steering wheel. "What got you started anyway— a book? A movie?"

"No— it was Saturday, at the beach, I ran into an old family friend—Jade Black. Her dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

Edward didn't answer, but the beat of his fingers had stopped.

I turned a fraction to glance at him. "Her dad is one of the Quileute elders. When I went with Mike and the girls for a walk at First Beach, she ended up telling me some old legends— trying to scare me, I think. She told me one about vampires." I said those last words as casually as I could. I saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" He was trying to act calm.

"No. She… mentioned your family. Mentioned Carlisle."

He was still silent, staring at the road.

"She didn't really take it all that seriously, y'know," I added quickly. "She didn't expect me to think anything of it, either."

"What did you do then?"

"I did some research online."

He muttered something that sounded like _'Of course she did'_ before piping up, "And did that convince you?"

I shrugged. "No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I paused. "I decided it didn't matter."

Because it didn't. I was different, I've been told that I'm a freak, I know that my kind has been around forever, but I also know that we've been hunted forever, too. So we do the most logical thing, when we feel threatened or scared, we hide. The only people we can truly trust is our own kind, otherwise we either feel like telling anyone else our struggles is just gonna make things worse.

Yeah, I know this isn't the most logical argument I could make on the subject but, shit, when you think about it, gays have a weird amount of stuff in common with vampires.

"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up— snapping me out of my rant.

"No," I said matter-of-factly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!" I had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.

"No!"

"You don't get to decide that, you don't get to erase years history warning people about things like me, only to throw them away because you wanna be the special little girl who's friends with a vampire!"

"Fuck you, shitbrain, yes I do!" I scoffed as fully turned to him, and then I decided that I might as well test my last theory.

"Really, explain to me then, explain how—"

"Because I'm gay, Edward!" I near screamed at him. "I'm a homosexual, a lesbian, a big, intimidating six-foot butch who'd rather punch people than focus on her real problems but would not give two shits if you just straight up and drank blood from juice-box. So, no, Cullen, I don't give a shit what you are. Because I know what it's like when people do."

He was silent then, and I noticed my hands like my breathing were shaky. Slowly, I sank back into the upholstered seat and stared into the blurred darkness passing by.

"Oh." Was all he could say.

"Well, I mean, look at me." I started weakly. "I'm kind of a walking advertisement for gay-ness and you never noticed, guess you're not as perceptive as you think." I chuckled to lighten the mood, but when no reaction came, my expression started to drop. "You're not... me being gay doesn't matter to _you_ , does it?"

My mind raced as he stayed silent. All I could hear was the wheels of the car as it began to slow. He parked the car, engine humming its white noise, the only thing keeping me from distracted as dread grew tenfold.

_Great, you find out your frenemie is a real vampire and turns out he's homophobic, well done Bella!_

And then he spoke, and it changed everything.

"My whole family thinks I'm gay."  
  
_OH._  
  
I blinked, and stuttered for a moment. "Are you?"

He stared at me, and the face of the bold, self-centred confidence of the idiot I'd put up with for months was gone. For the first time, he looked human.

"Does it matter?"

I could only stare back. Mouth moving with no sound coming out, and then—

_BWWWWAAAAAANNNNNNN._

Edward face-planted the steering wheel.

The noise rang out, and birds scattered out of the trees. I started to laugh. "Holy fucking shit. That's— that's—"

I couldn't help it, and held up my hand for a high-five.

"What are you doing?" He drawled, eyeing my hand as best he could.

"C'mon, it's a gay-lesbian solidarity high-five."

"You're a child."

"Yeah, and what about it, _old timer_."

I smiled gleefully, feet nearly bouncing in excitement. Edward sighed, sounding resigned, but lifted his head off the blaring horn, and slowly raised his own hand.

It was a weak, awkward high-five, Edwards hand slowly pressed into my hand rather than actually hitting it, but I felt better. I think he did too.

"How old are you?" I asked him as we sped off again.

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

I rolled my eyes. "Mhm, and _how long_ have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while."

I nodded, taking what little information he gave me my stride. I'd be an even bigger idiot to think he'd give me his entire life story on the way back.

_Baby steps, Bella, baby steps._

"Don't laugh— but how can you come out during the daytime?"

He laughed anyway. "Myth."

I leaned back in my seat, curious. "Burned by the sun?"

"Myth. Fire's a pretty shitty thing though, but I'll show you why another time."

"Cool. Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

"At all?"

"Never. You haven't asked me the most important question yet."

"And that is?" I asked.

"My diet?" he replied.

"Oh," I said dumbly, "that."

"Yes, _that._ "

I flinched. "Well, isn't that in the vampire job description? Jade said that—"

"Yes, what _did_ Jade say?" he asked flatly.

" _Jade_ said you didn't… hunt people. Said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

He was deeply skeptical. "She said we weren't dangerous?"

"Not exactly. Just that you weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous. But the family still didn't want you on their land, just in case. But was she right? About not hunting people?"

"They're right to remember," he whispered. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't be on guard, though," he warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We're still dangerous, but at least we _try_." he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be friends with you."

"But I'm still here."

"Yes," he said quietly, "you are."

The headlights twisted with the curves of the road as I began thinking that, maybe, I should try to hang out with Edward more, obviously not at school, his family clearly hated me too much already, but out here, out of Forks, it could work. Not because he's a vampire, well maybe that, but at least he's a gay one. We can at least talk about normal teenage stuff and not have me feel so alone for once.

_Is Edward lonely?_

I thought about that then I turned to him, and asked it.

He smiled sadly, but shook his head and replied quietly. "I just don't want to be a monster, Bella."

My head rested against my window. "You're not, and neither am I. We're just a pair of tough triple-chocolate cookies."

"After what happened tonight, I actually believe it. So, how are you gonna explain _that_ to your dad?" I looked back to see him jerking his thumb at my forehead.

I sighed and pulled down the roof mirror on my side. The wound was beginning to scab over, but there was still some bruising and dried blood smeared around it. "No hiding this one. I'm gonna be grounded so hard."

"Won't be so bad, it's not like you go out much anyway." His lips curved up at the corners as I swatted at him. "I suppose, if it wasn't you, it could have been much worse. Where'd you learn to do that anyway, you looked like a white Michiko Nishiwaki."

My eyes widened at the comparison. "Michiko Nishiwaki? The professional stunt woman, martial artist, fight choreographer, former female bodybuilder and powerlifter, that may or may not have contributed to my gay awakening at thirteen? That Michiko Nishiwaki?"

He grimaced. "Emmett went through a phase in the eighties."

"He had good taste. I, uh, I was- well technically I still am, a kickboxer. Started at twelve and just kept going. Never been in a proper, proper fight before though, mainly I just try to avoid doing stupid stuff like— oh."

"Oh?" he said, glancing to me as I rifled through my coat pocket to grab an item I'd held onto for this special occasion.

"Ah-ha!" I said triumphantly, holding out Edward's old antique fountain pen that'd I'd pocketed all those months ago at the hospital.

He finally told me the truth, and a Swan promise is a kept promise.

His eyebrow's raised when he realised what it was. "I wondered where that went." He said with a small smile as he delicately plucked the object from my fingers.

"You're a gay vampire and I'm a gay kleptomaniac. We're even."

🌈 🌈 🌈

We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks, and in less than twenty minutes we were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. He stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked cautiously.

"Sure— I've got a paper due for history. I'll save you a seat at lunch."

I smiled too, "You better. I've been dying to talk to someone about being gay for _ages_." My hand reached for the door handle, ready to face my fate with Charlie, when Edward spoke up for the last time that night.

"Bella?" he asked in a different tone— serious, but hesitant. "Thank you."

I gave him a smile and a sharp nod, before stepping out of the car and into the cold night air. Edward waited till I made it to the front door, and then I turned to watch the silver car disappear off the drive and around the corner.

I reached for my keys mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The TV was on, I could hear one of Charlie's sports being played; baseball. The light from the screen illuminated the latter part of the hall as I stood in the suffocating darkness by the front door, weighing my options as to how this was going to go down.

"Bella?" Charlie called from his place on the couch. 

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I threw my keys into the cheap wooden dish on a small cabinet and slowly shrugged off my jacket to hang it up. I faced the mirror in the hall, scrutinising my face and the grizzly patch on my forehead.

"You're home early, it's not even ten yet," he said as he rose, voice nearing around the corner. I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. "Did you girls have... fun."

His eyes were glued to the gash, his grin gone.

"Hey, dad. Enjoy your game?" I joked, though I didn't have the energy to put a smile behind it.

Within three strides he was by my side, switching the hall light on, and tilting my head to inspect me, eyes wide. "Jesus christ Bella, your head!"

"Dad it's fine, I'm alive."

"We need to get you to the hospital—"

The hospital. _Carlisle Cullen_. I pulled out of his grip.

"No!" I shouted, with more force than I wanted. "No hospitals. Please I'm just tired. There's a kit in the kitchen, it's got stuff inside. Dad, it's not worth the trip."

Charlie's lip pursed into a thin line, mulling over my point, before taking me by the wrist. He led me to the kitchen and I fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. He went and fetched the kit without a word, and I started to think I'd really fucked it up this time.

Charlie crouched down beside me, kit next to him on the ground. He started cleaning the gash as soon as he could, wiping a little too roughly before he opened his mouth to tell me off.

"You gotta stop doing this kiddo. You already scared me once what with that Tyler kid—"

"It wasn't his fault—" I bit out.

"'Doesn't matter if it was his fault or not!" Charlie yelled, startling me. He bit his lip, calming down before reaching for another wipe. He was gentler this time. "Bella you could've died that day and hell you could've died tonight and I wouldn't have even known. Some shopping trip my ass," he murmured, "How did this even happen?"

I stuttered then, trying to think of where to start; but charlie only raised his finger. "No, don't answer that. I don't think I wanna know."

_Charlie? Not interested in hearing what you've got to say? You did fuck it up this time, didn't you?_

We were silent then, I could see the cogs in Charlie's mind turning, probably imagining a bigger argument with me inside his head. I just sat there as he finished cleaning the wound up, finally applying a giant white square band-aid over it.

I stared at the ground as he packed the kit away. Moments later, I heard the tap run, and I looked up to see Charie pushing a glass of water into my hands. Still in painful silence, I drank it all.

"I know you Bells," Charlie said, taking my glass and setting it down nearby, his voice was barely audible, but he knew I could hear him. "and I know you can handle yourself, god knows the bill I had for your kickboxing lessons told my wallet that good enough, but you've gotta understand that we've never had this much time before. You'd stay for a month, go back to your mom and that's all I'd get for a whole year.

When Renee told me how long you planned on staying here... I gotta be honest, it scared me. Still does. Now, now, I'm aware that as your dad it's typical for me to tell you these things, but I'm tellin' you because dammit kiddo, you're all I've got. Your mom's got her guy, you've got your new friends and I'm—"

_Alone._

Charlie sighed shakily, and knelt down to look at me, eyes starting to water. "You're all I've got. I love you, Bella, but I'm scared for you."

I nodded, and kept nodding, thinking of nothing else to say, and before I knew it I was hugging him with all had. Tears and sobs wracked my body as Charlie hugged me back.

We were there a while, Charlie's occasional comments about him missing his basball game made me laugh enough times that eventually the tears stopped, and I just felt tired.

"You okay to go to school tomorrow?" he said eventually when we both parted.

"Yeah— yeah I'll be fine."

We walked up the stairs slowly, Charlie carrying my bag, as a heavy stupor clouded my mind. After promising him that I was okay enough to get into bed unassisted, I went through the motions of getting ready to sleep without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn't until I'd gone to put everything together for a shower, that my phone rang suddenly, startling me. I pressed accept before the third ring.

"Hello?" I asked, grogginess seeping in. I gently leaned my forehead onto the nearest wall, the cold surface soothing the pain a little.

A quiet, almost frantic feminine voice spoke from the other end. "Bella, you okay? It's me, Jess."

"Heyyyyyy, Jess."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved to hear mine.

"Yeah. What a wild night, huh?"

"Sure, I guess, but you've gotta tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow— in Trig, okay?"

"Oh, is your dad there?"

"He's downstairs but I really need to lie down. Head injury leads to concussions and all that."

"Ouch, Bella. Kay, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Make sure to drink some water before bed, okay? Bye!" I could hear the comforting sound of concern in her voice as the call was cut.

It wasn't until I was in the shower— the water too hot, burning my skin while the steam stifled the glass like a torturous coffin— that I realized my knuckles were still tinged red and pink from the abuse I'd hurled out hours earlier. I backed up against the tiled wall of the shower silently admiring the waves of pain occurring from my clenched fist for a moment before stepping back under the scolding spray till the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in before aching shivers decided to wrack my body. I dressed for bed swiftly into woolly clothes and climbed under the sheets. I quickly curled into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm.

My mind still swirled dizzily, flashbacks of the day preventing me from falling asleep. Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, three certainties became evident:

Firstly, Edward was a vampire. A weird, van-stopping, bottle-cap stealing, Coldplay-loving, gay vampire.

Secondly, there was part of him— and I didn't know how potent that part might be— that wanted to kill me.

And thirdly, he was now technically and impossibly, my _best friend_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I legit made myself sad while writing this and then realized I was projecting too much sdfkfghdf


	10. The whole thing's pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't tell, I really like writing dialogue.

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined— like Cullen telling me that he was a vampire _and_ that he was gay in the same span of five minutes. I was sure I could never have dreamed that up on my own.

I even slapped myself to see if it was real, but then I was still confused, but now also in pain.

Eventually, I had the energy to get up after my second alarm and pulled open the curtains to see my fate for the day. It was foggy and dark outside my window, no sun in sight. Edward had no excuse to skip school today.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again— I was running later than I'd realized. He left a nice note on the counter, with little smiley faces drawn in all four corners;

_Bella!_

_There's that tv you like on tonight, the one with the 'really pretty' girl you had posters of plastering your room when you were 10_

_Biffy the something something???_

_Hows homemade pancakes and syrup sound to go with it?_

_See you later!_

_Love, dad xx_

After pocketing the note, I stepped outside. It was unusually foggy; the type you cut with a knife and eat— according to the logic of morning cartoons. The mist was ice cold, dewy and uncomfortable, I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was another car parked on it: a _silver_ car.

I sighed heavily, rolled my eyes, and trudged my way down to meet him.

The passenger door opened, revealing Edward leaning towards me across the console, expensive Ray-Bans over his eyes and a playful smirk on his lips.

"Get in loser, we've got shit to learn."

As I stepped into the warm car, he drummed his fingers on the wheel, and I could make out the faint vocals of a country type song coming from the stereo. He glanced at me out of slight confusion when we were off down the road.

"What, no twenty questions today?"

"Hey," I started, "I've still gotta let you have some form of mysteriousness. Gives me something to look forward to."

"You, have an absurd and unnatural way of reacting to things."

"I react 'unnaturally'?" I said slowly.

"It's not a _problem,_ problem. I've learned to live with it. It's... It's like an itch I can't scratch, not being able to know what you're really thinking." He explained.

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit." He accused.

"Yeah, it's called Respecting My Privacy. I'm not going to apologise to the fact your powers don't work on me." I leant back against the seat, getting comfy against the deluxe padded material. "Grin and bear it, Eddie-boy. Grin and bear it."

🌈 🌈 🌈

As we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly. I turned around to check the back seats to see them empty.

"Are you going tell me why you're staring into an empty space," Edward said, "or do you just like pretending to be a gaping fish?"

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked, knowing that Edward always escorted his rabble to school with him.

"They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged, and nodded pointedly to said vehicle as he pulled up next to it; a vintage glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

I gave a low whistle, admiring it. I wondered if I could ever get my truck to look that good. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said; ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"Blend in?" I said as we stepped out. "I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone spray 'Eat The Rich' on your car yet. Why go separate?"

"Hadn't you noticed?" He said in a jokingly exaggerated 'bad-boy' tone, complete with a small hair flip that made me bark out a laugh, "I'm a rule breaker now."

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting. Her eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when she saw me approaching with none other than a Cullen by my side. She leapt out of her seat and speedwalked halfway across the yard in her flats to greet us.

Well, just to greet me. Jess didn't pay Edward any attention as she swept me right up and into a bear hug.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you're okay!" She rambled. "Me and Angie were so fucking worried about you— I nearly forgot to do my nighttime facemask routine because I couldn't stop worrying!"

Jess let me go, thankfully letting me breathe again, and scrutinised the plaster on my brow. "Youchers, Bella."

"Hey, Jess," I said as I backed up a bit, and then did she finally look Edward in the eyes.

"Hi, Edward." she said quickly with pursed lips.

"Morning, Jessica," Edward said back, nodding to her before awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

I turned back to her with a grin before the silence grew to an unbearable level. "I'll see you in Trig, yeah? I'll tell you all about it then. Promise."

She gave me a meaningful look, and a slight glare to Edward, before shuffling off, only pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

_What the fuck am I going to tell her?_

"Wow, she really still thinks I'm part of a cult." I turned to see Edward back to his normal self, leaning like a cocky shit with his hands in his jacket pockets. "She is _so_ going to spill." He began in a valley girl voice. "Did they plan to meet up last night? Has she been brainwashed? Blackmail?" He gasped in fake shock, his hands pressed against his cheeks, squshing them. "It's not like she's keeping this a secret—"

I smacked his shoulder before continuing to walk to class. "Hey, idiot, I get it, you can stop now."

"She'll be waiting to ambush you."

"It's _Jess_. I expect no less."

We were walking through the halls now, people shuffling back or to the side to make way for our tall statures. Sometimes to them I think l looked more like a minotaur in a maze than a human in a high-school corridor. One guy had pulled his friend closer to whisper something, but judging by the way Edward had suddenly rolled his eyes, I could tell there was a rumour about to be tossed around.

"So, tell me, Professor X, what does she want to know?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "That's not fair."

"No, you not sharing what you know— that's not fair."

"I thought you had a thing about respecting peoples privacy?"

"Alright, fuck what I said; gimmie the dirt, Cullen."

He paused as we stopped outside the door to my first class. He looked at me with 'you're a lovable idiot' eyes before reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a bag of something... and chucked it at my face. After the split second of quickly reacting to grab it, I looked up to see that he'd vanished. Typical.

It was a bag of sour patch kids.

🌈 🌈 🌈

Three people stared at the plaster on my brow as I entered through the doorway, and I could only picture my teacher ready and waiting to talk to me after class, silently passing me an unhelpful school leaflet about bullying. I wondered briefly if I'd be thought of as the offender. Probably.

Mike, ever the golden retriever, sprang up from his seat, meeting me halfway to mine, and gave a low whistle.

"Shit, Belsie," He said, mouth tight like he'd eaten a lemon. "I guess Port Angeles is on your shit list now."

I sat down, throwing the bag of Sour Patch Kids into my bag as he kept talking.

"Jess filled me in over a mostly unintelligible voice message— did you really get into a fight, or did you just like, fall over, or something?"

"It was…"

There was no honest way to sum it up, but seeing the growing awe on Mike's face was too good not to indulge.

I motioned him closer.

"Three assholes tried to corner me in the backstreets, bashed my head against a brick wall, but I broke one's nose and leg, think I bruised another dude's ribs, and— "

_Don't mention Edward. Don't mention Edward. Don't mention Edward._

"And the last guy ran off screaming like a baby seeing a fucked up Easter Bunny costume." I finished casually, smiling at Mike's engrossed expression. "Oh, also Jess and Angela managed to get the dresses they wanted."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, the conversation turning on its head. 

"Yes, she did, you simp. She had a good time, said you were the perfect gentleman," I assured him.

He grinned to himself, fingers tapping a rapid beat on the desk before slinking back to his seat.

Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our Shakespeare papers. After English it was Government, and even that passed in a blur. I was less worried about how to explain things to Jessica, knowing that Edward would be lurking around in her thoughts like a creep. How very convenient his little talent could be.

Speaking of, Edward had, by unfortunate reputation, predicted correctly. Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat like a panther about to strike.

"Tell me, honestly, are you okay!?" she commanded, taking my arm like a frightened parent and dragging me down to sit by her.

"Yes, I'm okay. Happy and healthy." I told her lightly, trying to signal her to talk quieter. A few other kids had started to strain their ears to listen in— where there's smoke there's fire after all.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home. Dude drives like a maniac. It was pretty fun."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "Fun equals letting your guard down, and letting that down means your susceptible to indoctrination!" Jess opened her bag then and ruffled around until she brought out some leaflets and promptly shoved them in my face. "Look, these tell you all you need to know about escaping a killer, psychopath, creepy uncle etc, etc. There's even a section about getting out of zip ties, now—"

"No, no leaflets, look—"

She smacked me on the arm. "They could've been scouting you! To see how easy you are!— did you tell him we were going shopping?"

"No— he just showed up."

Her lips puckered in disappointment. "He also picked you up for school today."

"Yes— that was a— it was... nice of him."

"So are you going out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it— does that count?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." She exaggerated. "Ed-ward Cull-en."

"I know," I agreed nervously. "'Wow' doesn't even cover it."

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "Has he kissed you?"

"No," I insisted. "It's not like that."

She looked relieved. "Oh, thank fuck for that. So what did you talk about?" She whispered. Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention.

"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back.

"Please, Bella," she begged. "I thrive on gossip, drama is basically my oxygen. I will literally _die_ if you don't give me some details."

"Well… okay. At the restaurant, we had a waitress serving us— you should have seen her flirting with him— I shit you not it was over the top. But he didn't pay any attention to her at all."

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty? Blonde? The Midsommar type?"

"Jess."

"Oops, sorry. No more murder death talk. Carry on."

"I dont know— she was nineteen or twenty."

"Damn, Swan, he must like you."

"Really? He often doesn't act like it." _Not in public anyhow._ "He's cryptic. But also an asshole."

Jess laughed at that. "I don't— He's so… freaky?" _'The Cult Thing,'_ she mouthed, "has made me a tiny bit paranoid, but it's just unfair at this point." She huffed and looked upset. "He is unbelievably gorgeous."

"That's your takeaway from all this?"

She sighed heavily. "Yeah."

"Surely there's more to wanting a guy that's weird and hot?"

"Really? Like what? If he's not dumb as fuck, loyal, and won't unironically listen to a Carley Ray Jepsen album with me, then I'd rather stay single."

I snorted. "Does a guy like that even exist?"

Jess gave me a small, secret smile that made my chest feel weird before facing the front. "Maybe. Not that you'd think it, with me in all my basic bitch glory, but I would like to be friends first with the guy I'd want to marry." She started playing with an old worn ring on her wedding finger that I'd never noticed before.

"Not to be deep and shit, but love at first sight is a bullshit notion." she added suddenly, surprising me, "Love through built up trust and communication is what I want. I _want_ him to know my favourite food, favourite horror movie... the name of my first stuffed animal. Who knows, maybe me and Mike will work out, maybe it won't. Point is, he knew me before and he'll know me after, even if I never see him again. I guess that makes it worth it?"

She shook her head and turned to me, and I realised I hadn't stopped looking at her. "So, Cullen. You like him, then?"

"I mean, yeah..." I said eventually.

"But do you really like him? Is he the guy that you want to exist in your bubble forever? Like the cult guy said in Midsommar, _does he feel like home to you?_ "

"I'm gay, Jessica."

My mouth was seemingly on autopilot. I stilled as what I'd just said barely louder than I whisper reached her ears.

Then, Mr. Varner called on her for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I ran to Spanish.

It was pointless though, her usual seat was right by mine, and to top it off we were paired a group together, dissecting sentence structures. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about what she'd say to me. Then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my relieved expression must have tipped Jessica off.

"Are you sitting with us today?" she asked, and I looked up to see that she was _hopeful_ , not mad.

"I don't—"

"Hey, Roundhouse."

Edward was waiting for me at the doorway, both expression and voice blank.

Jessica took one look, smiled at me, and departed. "See you later, Bella."

I waited until Edward gave me the all clear that she was gone, and we walked together closely down the hallway.

He led the way into the lunch line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, their expression... concerned. I knew he'd figured out what happened with Jess with his little Vampire gimmick. I fidgeted with the zipper on my jacket.

"So, do you want to talk about what happened with—"

"No."

I led the way to the same place we'd sat that before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us critically as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.

"I'm curious," I said, trying to change the mood. I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hand, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He drawled. When I held out the apple to him, he glared at me, but took it anyway. I watched with wide eyes as he deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. It didn't look like a pleasant experience.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, would you?" he asked condescendingly when my staring became comical.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so bad."

He laughed. "How am I not surprised." Then something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention. "Jessica's analyzing me again."

I kept my eyes down on the table as Edward concentrated on the voices around him for a few minutes. My eyes traced the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate as I thought about the problem i'd just gotten myself into. The silence dragged on.

"For fucks sake." I heard him grumble. I looked to see his fists clenched on top of the table.

"What's with you?"

He huffed. "Everyone. Since we arrived it's been _'Who took on her?' 'Did Cullen do that?' 'I told you they were dangerous.' 'Did they kill someone'_ — It's pathetic— the whole thing's pathetic."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Well, at least now we're _both_ crabby."

That got him to smile for a split second. "Sorry. I've not been this bothered by it in a few years. As I said, it can get overwhelming. There being no on and off switch makes it... I'll be fine."

"If I knew I'd be getting this much attention here I'd have packed better clothes." I sighed. "It's not like I'm exactly worth it."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'not worth it?"

"Well, look at me," I said. "I don't meet the bar for a lot of things. Not dainty— most people are afraid of me in Gym— and if I'm not doing homework I'm wasting time on the PS2 and my idea of a good time involves watching old movies with homoerotic undertones with a bowl of Ice-Cream, Black Licorice, and a litre bottle of Dr. Pepper. None of these people will ever get me, and I don't know if I love that fact or hate it so much I'd rather be waterboarded... and then there's _you_."

I waved my hand toward him and all his fucking stupid perfection.

Edward calmly folded his hands upon the table, when I'd finished my spiel, pondered for a second and told me: "You're a fucking moron, Isabella Swan."

"What the fu—"

"You don't give yourself enough credit, you know that? You beat those guys at Gym because you're better than them, and you've defended yourself constantly despite all the bullshit. You punched me, an asshole, in the face, you've told off the guys who can't take a hint, gotten Mike to take Jess to the dance—"

"How did you know about—"

"You broke the leg of a sexual harasser, _and_ you've found the guts to come out to not only me, but to Jess, even if it was a slip-up. Trust me just this once— you are worth it, Bella." His unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged his features. "Even if keeping you safe makes me feel like a full-time mother."

🌈 🌈 🌈

"Bella, I have another question for you."

"Shoot."

Edward had convinced me, well, he just asked, but I wasn't going to put up a fight anyhow, to spend the remainder of lunch just sitting and talking in the back of my truck. It got him away from the voices, and it got me away from the people the voices belonged to.

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

I made a face at the memory. "Fuck off. I haven't forgiven you for the Tyler thing yet," I warned him. "He's a sweet guy, like a real proper gentleman type. If you're so inclined towards him, you ask him to prom."

He chuckled. "He's not my type. Besides, I just really wanted to watch your face when all of them kept crowding you. Haven't had that much fun since 97'. If—" he started, then paused, trying to figure out the best way to say whatever it was, "If I'd asked you before we... _told_ each other... would you have turned me down?"

"Probably," I admitted. "I would have done something excusable like fake an illness or a sprained ankle. How many of these things have _you_ gone to?"

It was hard to picture Edward in a modern-day suit, let alone anything else from a previous time.

"Dances? My interest started waning in the eighties, so by your standards, it's practically zero. I'm not going to this one either. But you never told me— do you still want to go to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favour to ask."

He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question. "What?"

"Can I drive?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because my truck always has a 50/50 chance of turning into a scrap-heap when I go dangerously near the low speed of 40 an hour, and that I told Charlie I was going to Seattle."

"But you're not going to tell him you're spending the day with me." A statement, not a question.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I said, jumping over the topic.

"Out of the public eye… you've seen how many people have been whispering today." I grimaced, hopefully, none of it would make it's way up to Charlie. "I'm also going to show you what I meant, about fire being a really, really shitty thing."

I perked up immediately, rumours forgotten, now excited by the idea of unravelling another of the unknowns.

"You should tell Charlie, though." He peered at me like a stern mother.

I tapped impatiently on the side of the truck. But, after a moment of thought, I gave in. "Fine, you win. So, Goat Rocks. Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike. So what do you do up there?"

"Kill bears."

I spluttered. "H-How the fuck do you take down a bear?!"

"With practice. Grizzlies are Emmett's favourite, gives him a good challenge. Alice and Jasper take normal Brown Bears, while Rosalie just cheers them on from the sidelines." He said in a lighter, happier tone. He did that a lot when talking about his family.

"What's your favourite?"

"Mountain lion."

"Well, fuck me sideways," I said in a polite tone as if this wasn't the furthest thing from a normal conversation.

"Of course," he said, tone mirroring mine, "we're careful not to impact the environment with reckless hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators— ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but really, where's the fun in that?"

"Where indeed," I murmured. "Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear. I'm trying to picture it— but I can't," I admitted as he snickered. "Bears have a tough hide, how can you pierce that with your little _vampie fangies_?"

"One, never say 'vampie fangies' ever again or Rosalie _will_ slash your tyres, and two, there's much much more to us than that." He flashed his bright vampie fangies in a brief, smile. "If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting." He added.

I leaned back, picturing it. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped Emmett's arms and torso seemed somehow even more menacing now. Though, if he was human, I could probably take him.

"Is that something I might get to see?" I asked.

"You? See us hunt?" He tutted. "Forget car tyres, Rosalie would grind your entire rustbucket to dust." He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "I would if I could. If we're friends then you need to see what you're working with."

"Oh?"

"You need a healthy dose of fear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! October was a busy month for me so I thought it best to skip it and post this chapter back on its usual scheduled day. Hope you're all keeping safe!


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